But passion is not always blind, and Maurice divined what the baron tried to conceal--and clung to this faint hope in his father’s intervention, as tenaciously as a drowning man clings to the proverbial straw. If he refrained from speaking on the subject, it was only because he felt convinced that his parents would not tell him the truth. Still he watched all that went on in the house with that subtlety of penetration which fever so often imparts, and nothing that his father said or did escaped his vigilant eyes and ears. He heard the baron put on his boots, ask for his hat, and select a cane from among those placed in the hall stand; and a moment later he, moreover, heard the garden-gate grate upon its hinges. Plainly enough M. d’Escorval was going out. Weak as he was, Maurice succeeded in dragging himself to the window in time to ascertain the truth of his surmise. “If my father is going out,” he thought, “it can only be to visit M. Lacheneur; and if he is going to La Reche he has evidently not relinquished all hope.” With this thought in his mind Maurice sank into an arm-chair close at hand, intending to watch for his father’s return; by doing so, he might know his fate a few moments sooner. Three long hours elapsed before the baron returned, and by his dejected manner Maurice plainly saw that all hope was lost. Of this, he was sure, as sure as the criminal who reads the fatal verdict in the judge’s solemn face. He required all his energy to regain his couch, and for a moment he felt that he should die. Soon, however, he grew ashamed of this weakness, which he judged unworthy of him, and prompted by a desire to know exactly what had happened he rang the bell, and told the servant who answered his summons that he wished to speak with his father. M. d’Escorval promptly made his appearance. “Well!” exclaimed Maurice, as his father crossed the threshold of the room. The baron felt that all denial would be useless. “Lacheneur is deaf to my remonstrances and entreaties,” he replied, sadly. “There is no hope, my poor boy; you must submit. I will not tell you that time will assuage the sorrow that now seems insupportable--for you wouldn’t believe me if I did. But I do say to you be a man, and prove your courage. I will say even more: fight against all thought of Marie-Anne, as a traveller on the brink of a precipice fights against the thought of vertigo.” “Have you seen Marie-Anne, father? Have you spoken to her?” “I found her even more inflexible than Lacheneur.” “They reject me, and yet no doubt they receive Chanlouineau.” “Chanlouineau is living there.” “Good heavens! And Martial de Sairmeuse?” “He is their familiar guest. I saw him there.”