And it was not mere angry boasting. This young man, though so modest and so gentle in manner, had a heart that was inaccessible to fear. His beautiful, dark eyes, which had the trembling timidity of the eyes of a young girl, met the gaze of an enemy without flinching. When M. Lacheneur had repeated the last words which he had addressed to the Duc de Sairmeuse, M. d’Escorval offered him his hand. “I have told you already that I was your friend,” he said, in a voice faltering with emotion; “but I must tell you to-day that I am proud of having such a friend as you.” The unfortunate man trembled at the touch of that loyal hand which clasped his so warmly, and his face betrayed an ineffable satisfaction. “If my father had not returned it,” murmured the obstinate Marie-Anne, “my father would have been an unfaithful guardian--a thief. He has done only his duty.” M. d’Escorval turned to the young girl, a little surprised. “You speak the truth, Mademoiselle,” he said, reproachfully; “but when you are as old as I am, and have had my experience, you will know that the accomplishment of a duty is, under certain circumstances, a heroism of which few persons are capable.” M. Lacheneur turned to his friend. “Ah! your words do me good, Monsieur,” said he. “Now, I am content with what I have done.” The baroness rose, too much the woman to know how to resist the generous dictates of her heart. “And I, also, Monsieur Lacheneur,” she said, “desire to press your hand. I wish to tell you that I esteem you as much as I despise the ingrates who have sought to humiliate you, when they should have fallen at your feet. They are heartless monsters, the like of whom certainly cannot be found upon the earth.” “Alas!” sighed the baron, “the allies have brought back others who, like these men, think the world created exclusively for their benefit.” “And these people wish to be our masters,” growled Lacheneur. By some strange fatality no one chanced to hear the remark made by M. Lacheneur. Had they overheard and questioned him, he would probably have disclosed some of the projects which were as yet in embryo in his own mind; and in that case what disastrous consequences might have been averted. M. d’Escorval had regained his usual coolness. “Now, my dear friend,” he inquired, “what course do you propose to pursue with these members of the Sairmeuse family?” “They will hear nothing more from me--for some time, at least.” “What! Shall you not claim the ten thousand francs that they owe you?” “I shall ask them for nothing.” “You will be compelled to do so. Since you have alluded to the legacy, your own honor will demand that you insist upon its payment by all legal methods. There are still judges in France.” M. Lacheneur shook his head. “The judges will not accord me the justice I desire. I shall not apply to them.” “But----”