"Louise, you kill me with these words, say not another one, it is needless. I am on your side, sister. It is true that we withheld the truth from you--oh yes, I perceive that you know all; like my father, I was proud of your success and thought only of your career, also--before Heaven I thought and hoped you had forgotten Henri; if it is not so and you still love him----" "Yes, I still love him, Marie--what would you have, does one forget love so quickly? I would exchange all the military glory in the world for one kiss from his lips. My father is mad and you were mad, sister; do you think Henri could be alive and in Paris and I not know? You shall help me to prepare my father's mind, Marie, for whether he approves or disapproves, I must go my own way in this matter!" "But I deceived you, Louise--am I forgiven?" cried Marie, ashamed and distressed to realise how poor a part she had played in this comedy. Louise took her sister in her arms and kissed her--the first embrace these two had exchanged for many a year. "There," she laughed; "you see how true it is that I am a woman again; as for forgiving--bah!--there is a great deal of my father's madness in you, sister; in your heart of hearts you are as anxious as he for my career and as disappointed as he will be that I have so fallen away from your high ideals as to have fallen in love. Be comforted, Marie--you deceived me with the best motives, no harm has come of it, and you have confessed in time to save your soul and preserve my respect--_eh bien!_ all is well!" Nevertheless Marie approached her father with considerable trepidation when the moment came to speak of this matter of Louise; for Marie had stipulated that, as punishment for her offence, the task should be left to her. "Father," she said, "we have been mistaken, you and I. We had hoped and we believed that my sister Louise ceased to exist from the day of conscription, but alas! I have discovered that Louise lives, it is Michel Prevost who has ceased to exist." "What mean you?" said the old man, frowning. "It is this Baron d'Estreville, she has seen him, my father; it has been as you feared. She has spoken to me of him. She loves him." "_Sapristi!_ it is impossible! That any one should love a man more than honour and glory and a career--_cent mille diables!_--it is impossible!" "It is true--she is a woman, what would you have? it is better to recognise the fact, father; it is not her fault. I too found that I was a woman, and you forgave me." "That was different. You were always a fool, Marie; but here was one after my own heart, a woman, by misfortune of birth, but able to put the best of men to shame. And a fine career well begun! We will argue with her, Marie, she shall be wise. Stay--yes, that is better--I will pick a quarrel with this fool, and call him out. _Sapristi!_ my old arm is still strong enough to slice the rogue; let him but show his face here once again--he shall be taught that----"