“Why doubt, then, if you do not understand? However, I have given you cause to do so. But, let me reassure you, Mademoiselle Sabine has spoken to me with the utmost frankness; and, if you still distrust me, let me tell you that this veiled picture is her portrait. I will say more,” continued De Breulh gravely, as the artist still kept silent; “yesterday, at Mademoiselle de Mussidan’s request, I withdrew from my position as a suitor for her hand.” Andre had already been touched by De Breulh’s frank and open manner, and these last words entirely conquered him. “I can never thank you enough,” began he. But De Breulh interrupted him. “A man should not be thanked for performing his duty. I should lie to you if I said that I am not painfully surprised at her communication; but tell me, had you been in my place, would you not have acted in the same manner?” “I think that I should.” “And now we are friends, are we not?” and again De Breulh held out his hand, which Andre clasped with enthusiasm. “Yes, yes,” faltered he. “And now,” continued De Breulh, with a forced smile, “let us say no more about the picture, which was, after all, merely a pretext. As I came here I said to myself, ‘If the man to whom Mademoiselle de Mussidan has given her heart is worthy of her, I will do all I can to advance his suit with her family!’ I came here to see what you were like; and now I say to you, do me a great honor, and permit me to place myself, my fortune, and the influence of my friends, at your disposal.” The offer was made in perfect good faith, but Andre shook his head. “I shall never forget your kindness in making this offer, but----“; he paused for a moment, and then went on: “I will be as open as you have been, and will tell you the whole truth. You may think me foolish; but remember, though I am poor, I have still my self-respect to maintain. I love Sabine, and would give my life for her. Do not be offended at what I am about to say. I would, however, sooner give up her hand than be indebted for it to you.” “But this is mere madness.” “No, sir, it is the purest wisdom; for were I to accede to your wishes, I should feel deeply humiliated by the thought of your self-denial; for I should be madly jealous of the part you were playing. You are of high birth and princely fortune, while I am utterly friendless and unknown; all that I am deficient in you possess.” “But I have been poor myself,” interposed De Breulh, “and perhaps endured even greater miseries than ever you have done. Do you know what I was doing at your age? I was slowly starving to death at Sonora, and had to take the humblest position in a cattle ranch. Do you think that those days taught me nothing?” “You will be able to judge me all the more clearly then,” returned Andre. “If I raise myself up to Sabine’s level, as she begged me to, then I shall feel that I am your equal; but if I accept your aid, I am your dependent; and I will obey her wishes or perish in the effort.”