Maurice did not wince. “So be it,” he said calmly. “Marie-Anne’s fate will be that of all women who have devoted themselves to the political cause of the man they love, be he father, brother, or lover. She will be slandered and insulted, and still what does it matter! Let her continue her task. I consent to it, for I shall never doubt her, and I shall know how to hold my peace. If we succeed, she shall be my wife, if we fail--” The gesture with which young d’Escorval concluded his sentence expressed more strongly than any verbal protestations that come what might he was ready and resigned. Lacheneur seemed deeply moved. “At least give me time for reflection,” said he. “There is no necessity, sir, for further reflection.” “But you are only a child, Maurice; and your father is my friend.” “What of that?” “Rash boy! don’t you understand that by compromising yourself you also compromise the Baron d’Escorval? You think you are only risking your own head, but you are also endangering your father’s life--” “Oh, there has been too much parleying already!” interrupted Maurice, “there have been too many remonstrances. Answer me in a word! Only understand this: if you refuse, I shall immediately return home and blow out my brains.” It was plain from the young man’s manner that this was no idle threat. The strange fire gleaming in his eyes, and the impressive tone of his voice, convinced both his listeners that he really intended to effect his deadly purpose; and Marie-Anne, with a heart full of cruel apprehensions, clasped her hands and turned to her father with a pleading look. “You are one of us, then,” sternly exclaimed Lacheneur after a brief pause; “but do not forget that your threats alone induced me to consent; and whatever may happen to you or yours, remember that you would have it so.” These gloomy words, ominous as they were, produced, however, no impression upon Maurice, who, feverish with anxiety a moment before, was now well-nigh delirious with joy. “At present,” continued Lacheneur, “I must tell you my hopes, and acquaint you with the cause for which I am toiling--” “What does that matter to me?” replied Maurice gaily; and springing towards Marie-Anne he seized her hand and raised it to his lips, crying, with the joyous laugh of youth: “Here is my cause--none other!” Lacheneur turned aside. Perhaps he remembered that a sacrifice of his own obstinate pride would suffice to assure his daughter’s and her lover’s happiness. Still if a feeling of remorse crept into his mind, he swiftly banished it, and with increased sternness of manner exclaimed: “It is necessary, however, that you should understand our agreement.” “Let me know your conditions, sir,” said Maurice.