"Despair? But why do you say that? M. de Senneterre is worthy of you," cried Ernestine, thoughtlessly, remembering only her conversation with the young duke the evening before. "He loves you as you deserve to be loved, I know it." "You know it, Ernestine? How do you know it?" "I mean that--that I am sure of it, Herminie," replied Ernestine, much embarrassed. "All you have told me about him convinces me that you could not have placed your affections more wisely. The obstacles to your union are great, I admit, but by no means insurmountable." "But they are, Ernestine. I have never told you before, but my own sense of dignity will not permit me to marry M. de Senneterre, unless his mother comes here and tells me that she consents to my marriage with her son. Without that, nothing could induce me to enter this aristocratic family." "Oh, Herminie, how much I admire your pride!" exclaimed Ernestine. "And what does M. de Senneterre say?" "When M. Olivier told him my resolution, far from appearing either surprised or shocked, Gerald replied: 'What Herminie asks is only just. Her dignity, as well as mine, requires it. Despair is cowardly and foolish. It is for me to find the means of compelling my mother to acknowledge the worth of the woman to whom I shall be proud to give my name.' Noble and touching words, were they not, Ernestine?" "You are right, Herminie." "My mother loves me devotedly,' added M. de Senneterre, 'and nothing is impossible to an ardent lover. I shall find a way to convince my mother of the wisdom of my choice, and to induce her to make the advances Herminie has a right to expect. How I shall do it, I cannot say, but I shall do it, for Herminie's happiness and mine are at stake.' "And does not this courageous resolve inspire you with some hope?" asked Ernestine. The duchess shook her head sadly as she replied: "Gerald is sincere in his determination, but he deceives himself. All I have heard of his mother convinces me that this haughty woman will never--" "Never! why do you say never?" cried Ernestine, interrupting her friend. "Ah, Herminie, you have no idea how much the love of a man like M. de Senneterre can accomplish. His mother is a very proud woman, you say; so much the better. She would show herself pitiless to any cowardly humility, while your eminently proper pride will be sure to impress her, as she, too, is proud; so she will at least be obliged to esteem and respect you. That will be one great advantage gained; her love for her son will do the rest, for you do not know how she idolises him. She loves him so devotedly, in fact, that she has so far forgotten herself as to mix herself up in a shameful conspiracy in order to secure him an immense fortune by an act unworthy of him. Why, then, is her maternal love likely to fail when a worthy, commendable act on her part is alone needed to assure her son's happiness? Believe me, Herminie, no one ever need despair when there is a mother's heart to appeal to."