Misfortune is a harsh teacher; some weeks ago he would have smiled superciliously at the mere idea of granting his daughter’s hand to a struggling artist, for then he thought only of M. de Breulh, but now he would have esteemed it a precious boon had he been allowed to choose Andre as Sabine’s husband. But Henri de Croisenois stood in the way, and as this idea flashed across the Count’s mind he gave a perceptible start. He was sure from the excessive calmness of the young man that he must be well acquainted with all recent events. He asked the question, and Andre, in the most open manner, told him all he knew. The generosity of M. de Breulh, the kindness of Madame Bois Arden, his suspicions, his inquiries, his projects, and his hopes. M. de Mussidan gazed once more upon his daughter’s portrait, and then taking the hand of the young painter, said,-- “M. Andre, if ever we can free ourselves from those miscreants, whose daggers are pointed at our hearts, Sabine shall be your wife.” CHAPTER XXXI. GASTON’S DILEMMA. Yes, Sabine might yet be his, but between the lovers stood the forms of Croisenois and his associates. But now he felt strong enough to contend with them all. “To work!” said he, “to work!” Just then, however, he heard a sound of ringing laughter outside his door. He could distinguish a woman’s voice, and also a man’s, speaking in high, shrill tones. All at once his door burst open, and a hurricane of silks, velvets, feathers, and lace whirled in. With extreme surprise, the young artist recognized the beautiful features of Rose, _alias_ Zora de Chantemille. Gaston de Gandelu followed her, and at once began,-- “Here we are,” said he, “all right again. Did you expect to see us?” “Not in the least.” “Ah! well, it is a little surprise of the governor’s. On my word, I really will be a dutiful son for the future. To-day, the good old boy came into my room, and said, ‘This morning I took the necessary steps to release the person in whom you are interested. Go and meet her.’ What do you think of that? So off I ran to find Zora, and here we are.” Andre did not pay much attention to Gaston, but was engaged in watching Zora, who was looking round the studio. She went up to Sabine’s portrait, and was about to draw the curtain, when Andre exclaimed,-- “Excuse me,” said he; “I must put this picture to dry.” And as the portrait stood on a moveable easel, he wheeled it into the adjoining room. “And now,” said Gaston, “I want you to come and breakfast with us to celebrate Zora’s happy release.” “I am much obliged to you, but it is impossible. I must get on with my work.” “Yes, yes; work is an excellent thing, but just now you must go and dress.” “I assure you that it is quite out of the question. I cannot leave the studio yet.” Gaston paused for a moment in deep thought. “I have it,” said he triumphantly. “You will not come to breakfast; then breakfast shall come to you. I am off to order it.”