"Ah, monsieur, that is what I feared," said Touquet, who appeared to be really grieved at what he heard. "You wish to make Blanche your mistress!" "I wish to make her happiness; I feel that my love for her will be lifelong." "That is impossible, monseigneur. Blanche is about to be married to a young man whom she loves. You must see that your love cannot render her happy." For some moments the marquis walked up and down the room, then he cried passionately,-- "I repeat to you, Blanche must be mine--it must be so. I will leave no means unemployed to attain this end. She cannot yet love her destined husband; she has only known him for a few days." "Monseigneur, who has informed you as to all this?" "What does that matter to you? That love is but a passing sentiment and I shall know how to make her forget it by overwhelming her with presents, with jewels, and by seeking to invent new pleasures to make each day delightful to her." "Monseigneur, Blanche is accustomed to retirement; she is not a coquette; your ornaments, your gifts will have no effect upon her." "Enough of this," said the marquis, "your objections weary me; I have now some orders to give you. I wish you to give me Blanche, on whom I swear to settle an independent fortune. Such a treasure I feel is worthy of a great price. Wait, here are six thousand crowns in notes and gold. You shall have as much more when you have fulfilled my commands." The barber eyed with avaricious looks the money which the marquis had spread upon the table; then he turned his eyes away, saying in a gloomy voice,-- "Gold! yes, it is always that which draws me on; but this time--no, I cannot. Remember, monseigneur, that within two days Blanche should be united to her lover." "Then at once, tonight even, it is necessary that she be given into my hands." The barber appeared to be weighing the proposition in his mind; from time to time he looked at the money on the table, and, finally, speaking with a great effort, he said,-- "It cannot be, monseigneur, I am extremely grieved to have to disappoint you, but matters are too far advanced." The marquis drew near Touquet, and grasping him tightly by the arm, said in a low tone,-- "It will, then, be necessary that I beg my uncle, the grand provost, to cause a new inquiry to be held in regard to the murder of Blanche's father. Do you think, scoundrel, that I do not partly divine the cause which has induced you to keep this young girl so carefully hidden from everybody's sight? Her beauty would be remarked, and could not fail to draw a throng of admirers who would have much to say of Blanche, and in seeking to learn who she is and what family she belongs to they would obtain new facts about that unfortunate traveller who was murdered on the evening of his arrival in Paris. They would make reflections on the fortune which came to you, nobody knows how, some time after that event."