“You will excuse me, Monsieur,” he said, addressing Lacheneur, “for presenting my request in such a manner, and at such a time. But surely, when fate glowers ominously upon you, that is the time when your friends should declare themselves--and deem themselves fortunate if their devotion can make you forget the infamous treatment to which you have been subjected.” As he spoke, he was watching Marie-Anne. Blushing and embarrassed, she turned away her head, perhaps to conceal the tears which inundated her face--tears of joy and of gratitude. The love of the man she adored came forth victorious from a test which it would not be prudent for many heiresses to impose. Now she could truly say that she knew Maurice’s heart. He, however, continued: “I have not consulted my father, sir; but I know his affection for me and his esteem for you. When the happiness of my life is at stake, he will not oppose me. He, who married my dear mother without a dowry, must understand my feelings.” He was silent, awaiting the verdict. “I approve your course, my son,” said M. d’Escorval, deeply affected; “you have conducted yourself like an honorable man. Certainly you are very young to become the head of a family; but, as you say, circumstances demand it.” He turned to M. Lacheneur, and added: “My dear friend, I, in my son’s behalf, ask the hand of your daughter in marriage.” Maurice had not expected so little opposition. In his delight he was almost tempted to bless the hateful Duc de Sairmeuse, to whom he would owe his approaching happiness. He sprang toward his father, and seizing his hands, he raised them to his lips, faltering: “Thanks! you are so good! I love you! Oh, how happy I am!” Alas! the poor boy was in too much haste to rejoice. A gleam of pride flashed in M. Lacheneur’s eyes; but his face soon resumed its gloomy expression. “Believe me, Monsieur le Baron, I am deeply touched by your grandeur of soul--yes, deeply touched. You wish to make me forget my humiliation; but, for this very reason, I should be the most contemptible of men if I did not refuse the great honor you desire to confer upon my daughter.” “What!” exclaimed the baron, in utter astonishment; “you refuse?” “I am compelled to do so.” Thunderstruck at first, Maurice afterward renewed the attack with an energy which no one had ever suspected in his character before. “Do you, then, wish to ruin my life, Monsieur?” he exclaimed; “to ruin _our_ life; for if I love Marie-Anne, she also loves me.” It was easy to see that he spoke the truth. The unhappy girl, crimson with happy blushes the moment before, had suddenly become whiter than marble, as she looked imploringly at her father. “It cannot be,” repeated M. Lacheneur; “and the day will come when you will bless the decision I make known at this moment.” Alarmed by her son’s evident agony, Mme. d’Escorval interposed: “You must have reasons for this refusal.”