“And to think that she sincerely believes that!” Régis mused, gazing at the “Gamin” in her dark-gray riding-habit, slim and young, and good to look at beyond compare. “My own little girl!” he thought, tenderly. “How I wish she could be happy. And to think that that fool of a Basil considers himself too smirched and dishonored now to ever ask her to be his wife!” Aloud he said, simply: “You are entirely mistaken, _Chevalier_. You have lived a life for more protected and sheltered than most modern girls, even when they have been strictly brought up. What you know of men is represented by myself, Jean de Salvières, and some other relatives of the same stamp. We all and sundry are not a bad sort, and have the breeding to show our best side to our women. Tatiana and the other few feminine personalities you come in contact with, including that excellent creature Hortense, are _hors concours_; delightful as far as perfection can go, and the only bad un you ever met was that misguided being, Laurence.” “Oh, Papa, remember!” Marguerite pleaded, much distressed. “I remember, my dear, never fear! Nor am I especially harsh in mentioning the fact that Laurence was a very evil woman. God knows she was. Basil made a frightful mistake when he married her, and has lived to regret it. He is sore now; embittered; _refoulé sur lui même_; restive to any interference coming from his people, from me, from his best and most intimate friends. But you are different! I am not speaking from undue pride in you, or because you can always lead me by one thread of your silken hair, so don’t shake your head. You have to a supreme degree the _cavata_ necessary to wield power of the only kind that will work with him--and bear in mind that the warmest corner of his heart has always been yours.” Marguerite rose. “I don’t believe that!” she said, with utter frankness. “At least I never saw any sign of such a thing, Papa.” “That again is due to your inexperience. Basil is naturally cold, distant, and self-contained--wooden, if you like--and a bit introspective. He is also, funny as it may seem to you, a shy man. Believe me, _Chevalier_, I am anxious to see the ice wall that surrounds him--how poetically I do speak!--broken through. He has suffered quite enough already. You, I am absolutely certain, can humanize him again. Now will you, or will you not, do your little best? Answer me!” Marguerite had an unbounded confidence in her father. She saw that he was very much in earnest--a rare thing with him, who to all intents and purposes generally toyed with life’s difficulties; and her surrender was quick. “You really, genuinely, think that I can do something to help?” she asked. “You really believe that Basil is in danger?” “I answer yes on both counts, unhesitatingly,” Régis declared. “Basil is in a bad way, which is a thousand pities, for he is the finest man I know; also I stick by what I said--you alone, my little witch, can make him hear reason. I have spoken!”