"I tell you that your son will kill himself, you poor fool!" exclaimed the marquis, terrible in his earnestness. "I tell you the last Duc de Senneterre will perish by his own hand like the last Duc de Bretigny!" This allusion to a recent tragical event, which had been one of the chief topics of conversation at Madame de Mirecourt's ball, gave the duchess a severe shock. She knew Gerald's remarkable energy and determination of character, and consequently knew how much he must suffer from this hidden grief; besides, she had such a profound respect for M. de Maillefort, much as she disliked him personally, that she knew he would be incapable of threatening her with the possibility of Gerald's suicide if he was not really convinced that such a danger was imminent, so the now thoroughly frightened woman cried: "What you say is terrible, monsieur. The house of De Senneterre become extinct by a suicide!" The blind pride of race spoke more loudly than maternal love in this cry. The proud woman shuddered first chiefly at the thought that the name of the Senneterres, of that great and illustrious house, might become extinct through an act that the society in which she moved considered a crime. The marquis understood Madame de Senneterre's real feelings so well that he exclaimed: "Yes; if you are as blind as you are pitiless, this illustrious name of Senneterre, often famous and always honoured, will be blotted out for ever in tears and in blood." "M. de Maillefort, such an idea is horrible! I know my son is capable of going to almost any extreme--but no, no, I will not believe that. You make me shudder! And when I think of the grief and despair and shame of a family that sees its head end his life by his own rash act--hold--enough--enough--I should go mad!" And passing her hand hastily across her brow, covered with big drops of cold sweat, Madame de Senneterre continued: "I tell you, monsieur, that I cannot and will not think of such a thing. But who is this young woman you speak of? Though I am in mortal dread as to the choice Gerald has made, there is one thing that reassures me a little. It is that the young woman insists that I shall come and tell her that I consent to her marriage with my son. For her to dare expect such a concession from me, she must hold such a social position that I, at least, have no cause to fear an unworthy love on the part of my son." "Gerald has placed his affections creditably, even nobly, madame. I have already had the honour of assuring you of this fact," responded the marquis, severely, "and usually what I say can be believed." "That is true, monsieur. Your assurance should satisfy me on that point. It is not likely that I shall ever have another opportunity to make such a match as that which I dreamed of for my son; but if the birth and fortune of the young lady in question are satisfactory, and--" But here the hunchback interrupted Madame de Senneterre by saying: