"The young lady in question is an orphan. She is a music teacher, and supports herself by giving lessons." It is impossible to describe the expression of Madame de Senneterre's face as the words of the marquis fell upon her ear. Had she experienced an electric shock, the movement she made could not have been more convulsive. "An adventuress, then! The wretched boy, to degrade himself like this!" she cried. "What a humiliation for me and my daughters!" And as M. de Maillefort sprang up no less hastily to reply to Madame de Senneterre, the latter interrupted him by adding: "And such a creature has the audacity to ask me--me to so degrade myself as to go to her, the--" But Madame de Senneterre did not complete the sentence. She had fully intended to add an opprobrious epithet, but she burst into a shrill, almost frenzied, laugh instead. A cold silence following this ebullition of rage, Madame de Senneterre placed a trembling hand on M. de Maillefort's arm, and said: "My dear marquis, listen to me. If my unworthy son should come and stand there,--right before me, do you understand?--and say to me,'I will kill myself before your very eyes if you refuse your consent,' I should say, 'Kill yourself, then. I would rather see you dead than disgraced. I would rather your name should die out, than to see it perpetuated to your dishonour, mine, and that of your sisters.'" Then seeing the marquis was about to protest, she added: "M. de Maillefort, I am not in a passion, I am calm, and I am saying exactly what I mean. I am telling you exactly what I should do, and after the insulting demand of my son and his accomplice, it is no longer maternal love or even indifference I feel for him; it is contempt, it is hatred, yes, hatred, do you hear? Tell him so. All the affection I once felt for this scoundrel I shall now bestow upon my daughters." "This woman would do what she says," thought the marquis, with a feeling of horror. "It is useless to insist further. Reason is no match for such blind obstinacy as this. This woman, as she says, would watch her son kill himself before her very eyes unmoved. This is a pride of race that amounts to the stupid ferocity of the brute. Poor Gerald! Poor Herminie!" CHAPTER XXII. A FINAL VICTORY. After a moment's silence, during which Madame de Senneterre sat positively panting with rage at this odious revelation which she could not yet fully make up her mind to believe, viz., that her son wished to marry a music teacher who supported herself by her own exertions, M. de Maillefort said, coldly, and exactly as if the foregoing conversation had never taken place: "Madame, what do you think of the nobility and illustriousness of the house of Haut-Martel?" At first Madame de Senneterre gazed at the hunchback with evident surprise, then she said: "Really, monsieur, this question is most extraordinary." "And why, madame?"