"Oho!" said old Pierre; "is it so? He shall know that there is no longer a Louise Dupré to listen to his philandering." This attitude did not bode well for Monsieur le Baron, who awaited Louise in the salon, more agitated than he would have believed possible. "Monsieur will doubtless remember me," he explained; "it was I who brought Monsieur Paul de Tourelle, the only fencer--it is said--at whose hands Mademoiselle Louise was ever worsted." "Ah, his was a fine hand with the foils!" said Pierre. "Yes, I remember well. Ha ha! in the first bout she scored twice with the _feint flanconnade Dupré_--a trick new to him and most successful; but after consideration he thought out a counter which was clever; I remember well. Does Monsieur le Baron come now as a pupil? Let me see, have we already enjoyed the honour of instructing Monsieur le Baron?" "Monsieur, I have lately returned from the war; I have heard enough of the clash of swords to last me handsomely until the Emperor enters upon a new enterprise and one, let us hope, of better omen. I have come to pay my respects to a friend for whom I entertain feelings of the highest respect--it is Mademoiselle your daughter." "Ah--Marie; she is within; I will tell her." Old Dupré shuffled off as though to fetch Marie. "Pardon, Monsieur," said Henri, blushing; the old man was very dense. "You have another daughter; it is Mademoiselle Louise I mean!" "Louise!" exclaimed Dupré, throwing up his hands; "Monsieur le Baron has not then heard that Louise is dead?" "_Grand Dieu_, Monsieur, what are you saying?" exclaimed Henri; his cheek grew suddenly pale; his knees seemed to tremble beneath him; he had risen to his feet, but he sat down again hurriedly. "She is dead, Monsieur; Louise is dead; she has ceased to exist; do I not express myself with sufficient clearness?" "Monsieur will pardon my emotion--I had not heard," murmured Henri scarcely audibly. "My God, it is incredible; it is horrible; and I have so looked forward--Monsieur, how long since did this most lamentable event happen?" "Nearly a year, Monsieur. I fail to remember that Monsieur's acquaintance with my daughter was particularly intimate." "Monsieur Dupré," said Henri, finding his voice, "I did not mention the circumstance when I was here in May last for the reason that I had not then myself realised it; but it is nevertheless the truth that, short as was my acquaintance with Mademoiselle Louise, it was long enough to convince me that my heart had in Mademoiselle found its intimate, its complement, that in a word I loved Mademoiselle and must lay at her feet my life, my happiness. Monsieur, I was presumptuous enough to think that your daughter was not indifferent to me; her young heart had never, I believe, been assailed; I had the greatest hopes that she would listen favourably to my suit--we should, perhaps, have enjoyed wedded bliss; and I return to be informed by you that she is dead."