“Have you never studied law in the slightest degree, Marquis? Dear me, how neglectful some parents are! You are not of age, and there is a certain article, 354 in the code, that could be so worked that a poor humble creature like me could be locked up for perhaps five years. The law deals very hardly when any one has dealings with a minor, the more especially when the father is a man of untold wealth. If the Duke should ever discover----” “But how could he ever do so?” Daumon made no reply, and his silence so plainly showed Norbert that the Counsellor did not trust him, that he repeated the question in an angry voice. “Your blind subservience to your father is too well known.” “You believe that I should confess everything to him?” “You yourself told me that when his eyes were fixed on yours you could not avoid yielding to his will.” Norbert’s anger gradually died away, as he replied in accents of intense bitterness,-- “I may be a savage, but I am not likely to become a traitor. If I once promised to keep a secret, no measures or tortures would tear it from me. I may fear my father, but I am a Champdoce, and fear no other mortal man. Do you understand me?” “But, Marquis--” “No other mortal man,” interrupted Norbert sternly, “will ever know from me that we have ever exchanged words together.” An expression passed over the features of the Counsellor which cast a ray of hope upon the young man’s heart. “Upon my word,” said he, “any one would judge from my hesitation that I had some wrong motive in acting as I am doing, but I never give bad advice, and any one will tell you the same about me, and this is the breviary by which I regulate all my actions.” As he spoke, he took a book from his desk, and waved it aloft. Norbert looked puzzled and angry. “What do you mean?” asked he. “Nothing, Marquis, nothing; have patience; your majority is not far off, and you have only a few years to wait. Remember that your father is an old man; let him carry out his plan for a few years longer, and----” Norbert struck his fist savagely upon the table, crying out furiously. “It was not worth my coming here if this was all that you had to say;” and, whistling to Bruno, the young man prepared to quit the room. “Ah, Marquis! you are far too hasty,” said the Counsellor humbly. Norbert paused. “Speak then,” answered he roughly. In a low, impressive voice, Daumon went on. “Remember, Marquis, that though I should like to see you have a better understanding with your father, yet, at the same time, I should like to work for the happiness of you both. I am like a judge in court, who endeavors to bring about a compromise between the litigants. Can you not, while affecting perfect submission, live in a manner more suited to you? There are many young men of your age in a precisely similar position.” Norbert took a step forward and began to listen earnestly.