“Your own good sense,” answered he. “What more could we expect to get out of you than your daughter and your money?” The Count did not answer, but paced up and down the room, eyeing the ambassador keenly, and endeavoring to detect some weak point in his manner of cynicism and audacity. Then speaking in the calm tone of a man who had made up his mind, he said,-- “You hold me as in a vice, and I admit myself vanquished. Stringent as your conditions are, I accept them.” “That is the right style of way to talk in,” remarked Tantaine cheerfully. “Then,” continued the Count, with a ray of hope gleaming in his face, “why should I give my daughter to De Croisenois at all?--surely this is utterly unnecessary. What you want is simply six hundred thousand francs; well, you can have them, and leave me Sabine.” He paused and waited for the reply, believing that the day was his; but he was wrong. “That would not be the same thing at all,” answered Tantaine. “We should not gain our ends by such means.” “I can do more,” said the Count. “Give me six months, and I will add a million to the sum I have already offered.” Tantaine did not appear impressed by the magnitude of this offer. “I think,” remarked he, “that it will be better to close this interview, which, I confess, is becoming a little annoying. You agreed to accept the conditions. Are you still in that mind?” The Count bowed. He could not trust himself to speak. “Then,” went on Tantaine, “I will take my leave. Remember, that as you fulfil your engagement, so we will keep to ours.” He had laid his hand on the handle of the door, when the Count said,-- “Another word, if you please. I can answer for myself and Madame de Mussidan, but how about my daughter?” Tantaine’s face changed. “What do you mean?” asked he. “My daughter may refuse to accept M. de Croisenois.” “Why should she? He is good-looking, pleasant, and agreeable.” “Still she may refuse him.” “If mademoiselle makes any objection,” said the old man in peremptory accents, “you must let me see her for a few minutes, and after that you will have no further difficulty with her.” “Why, what could you have to say to my daughter?” “I should say----” “Well, what would you say?” “I should say that if she loves any one, it is not M. de Breulh.” He endeavored to pass through the half-opened door, but the Count closed it violently. “You shall not leave this room,” cried he, “until you have explained this insulting remark.”