'Perhaps it used to be so when young men came to sup with you, years ago; but nowadays men like their supper,' said Marie, who was driven on by her anger to a ferocity which she could not restrain. 'I did not mean to give offence,' said the poor old lady meekly. Marie, as she thought of what she had said, repented so bitterly that she could hardly refrain from tears. 'There is no offence at all,' said Michel angrily. 'Will you allow me to give you a little wine?' said Adrian, turning to his neighbour. Marie bowed her head, and held her glass, but the wine remained in it to the end of the supper, and there it was left. When it was all over, Michel felt that it had not been a success. With the exception of her savage speech to the disagreeable old lady, Marie had behaved well. She was on her mettle, and very anxious to show that she could sit at table with Adrian Urmand, and be at her ease. She was not at her ease, but she made a bold fight--which was more than was done by her uncle or her aunt. Michel was unable to speak in his ordinary voice or with his usual authority, and Madame Voss hardly uttered a word. Urmand, whose position was the hardest of all, struggled gallantly, but was quite unable to keep up any continued conversation. The old lady had been thoroughly silenced, and neither she nor her sister again opened their mouth. When Madame Voss rose from her chair in order that they might all retire, the consciousness of relief was very great. For that night Marie's duty to her uncle was done. So much had been understood. She was to dress herself and sit down to supper, and after that she was not to be disturbed again till the morrow. On the next morning she was to be subjected to the grand trial. She understood this so well that she went about the house fearless on that evening--fearless as regarded the moment, fearful only as regarded the morrow. 'May I ask one question, dear?' said her aunt, coming to her after she had gone to her own room. 'Have you made up your mind?' 'No,' said Marie; 'I have not made up my mind.' Her aunt stood for a moment looking at her, and then crept out of the room. In the morning Michel Voss was half-inclined to release his niece, and to tell Urmand that he had better go back to Basle. He could see that the girl was suffering, and, after all, what was it that he wanted? Only that she should be prosperous and happy. His heart almost relented; and at one moment, had Marie come across him, he would have released her. 'Let it go on,' he said to himself, as he took up his cap and stick, and went off to the woods. 'Let it go on. If she finds to-day that she can't take him, I'll never say another word to press her.' He went up to the woods after breakfast, and did not come back till the evening.