Aunt Marguerite smiled, for there was certainly the germ of an incurable rupture between these two, and she turned away her head to hide her triumph. "She will never forgive him for speaking as he did about the beggarly trade." Then crossing with a graceful old-world carriage, she laid her hand on Madelaine's arm. "Come into the drawing-room, my dear," she said, smiling, and to Madelaine it seemed that her bright, malicious-looking eyes were full of triumph. "You and I will have a good hard fight over genealogies, till you confess that I am right, and that your father and you have no claim to Huguenot descent." "Oh, no, Miss Vine," said the girl, laughing, "my father must fight his own battle. As for me, I give up. Perhaps you are right, and I am only a Dutch girl after all." "Oh, I wish we were back in London!" cried Harry as they strolled along towards the cliff walk. "Ah, this is a dead-and-alive place, and no mistake," said Pradelle. "Why don't you leave it then?" said Harry sulkily. "You are free." "No, I am not. I don't like to see a friend going to the bad; and besides I have your aunt's commission to try and save you from sinking down into a miserable tradesman." "Why don't you save me, then?" "That's just like you. Look here, sink all cowardice, and go lip to the old boy like a Trojan. Plenty of money, hasn't he?" "I suppose so. I don't know." "He's sure to have." "But he's such an old porcupine." "Never mind. Suppose you do get a few pricks, what of that? Think of the future." "But that venture must be all over now." "What of that? You get the money and I can find a dozen ways of investing it. Look here, Harry, you profess to by my friend, and to have confidence in my judgment, and yet you won't trust me." "I trusted you over several things, and see how I lost." "Come, that's unkind. A man can't always win. There, never look back, look forward. Show some fight, and make one good plunge to get out of that miserable shop-boy sort of life." "Come along then." "You'll go up and ask him?" "Yes, if you'll back me up." "Back you up, lad? I should think I will. Lead on, I'll follow thee." "We'll do it sensibly, then. If you speak before Uncle Luke in that theatrical way we shall come down faster then we go up." "I'll talk to the old man like a young Solomon. And he shall say that never did youth choose more wisely for his friend than Harry Vine, otherwise Henri, Comte des Vignes." "Look here," said Harry, peevishly--"`otherwise Comte des Vignes.' Why don't you say _alias_ at once? Why, if the old man heard that, he'd want to know how long it was since you were in a police-court. Here, you'd better stay down here." "All right, my dear fellow. Anything to help you on." "No; I'd rather you came too." There was a pause in a niche of the rocks, and then, after the scratching of a match, the young men went up the cliff path, smoking furiously, as they prepared themselves for the attack.