"Adieu, monsieur," responded George, taking the outstretched hand of the merchant. But the latter, suddenly throwing his arms around the young artisan, pressed him to his breast, crying in a voice that shook with joy, and with eyes moist with tears: "Well done, George! Honest man! Loyal heart! I judged you rightly!" Puzzled at these words, and at the conduct of the linendraper, George looked at him unable to utter a word. The latter whispered to him: "Six weeks ago--_Lourcine Street_." A tremor ran over George's frame. In alarm he exclaimed: "Mercy, monsieur!" "Number seventeen, fourth floor, in the rear." "Monsieur, I beg of you!" "Did not a mechanic named Dupont introduce you blindfolded?" "Monsieur, I can make no answer." "Five members of a secret society received you. You took the usual pledge. And you were led out again, still blindfolded. Not so?" "Monsieur," cried George as stupefied as he was terror-stricken at the revelation, and seeking to regain composure. "I do not understand what you are saying--" "I was, that evening, the chairman of the committee, my brave George." "You, monsieur!" cried the young man still hesitating to believe Lebrenn. "You!" "Yes, I." And seeing incredulity still depicted on George's countenance, the merchant proceeded: "Yes, I presided. And here is the proof." Saying which he whispered a few words in George's ear. Unable any longer to doubt, the young man cried, looking at the merchant: "But, monsieur--the oath that you demanded of me a while ago?" "It was a last test." "A test?" "You must pardon me for it, my brave George. A father is mistrustful. Thank heaven you did not belie my expectations. You stood the test gallantly. You preferred the ruin of your dearest hopes to a lie, notwithstanding you must have felt sure that I relied upon your word with implicit confidence, whatever you may have said." "Monsieur," replied George with a hesitation that deeply touched the merchant, "can I now--can I this time--can I hope--with certainty? I conjure you, speak! If you only knew what anguish I went through a while ago!" "Upon my word as an honest man, my dear George, my daughter loves you. My wife and I consent to your marriage. And we look forward to it with delight because we see in it a future of happiness for our child. Is that plain?" "Oh, monsieur!" cried George pressing with effusion the hand of the merchant, who said: "As to the exact day of your marriage, my dear George, the events of yesterday--those that are in train to-day--the course that our secret society is to follow--" "You, monsieur?" cried George with renewed amazement, and unable to avoid interrupting Lebrenn to express his astonishment, for a moment forgotten in his transport of joy; "You, monsieur, are, indeed, a member of our secret society? Indeed, I am dumbfounded!"