Maurice smiled, he was perfectly cool, and not a detail of the scene before him had escaped his notice. If he had felt any doubts before, they were now dissipated. He saw upon the fire a large kettle of melted lead, and several bullet-moulds stood on the hearth, beside the andirons. “If I venture to present myself at your house, Monsieur,” said Maurice, gravely and impressively, “it is because I know all. I have discovered your revengeful project. You are looking for men to aid you, are you not? Very well! look me in the face, in the eyes, and tell me if I am not one of those whom a leader is glad to enroll among his followers.” M. Lacheneur was terribly agitated. “I do not know what you mean,” he faltered, forgetting his feigned anger; “I have no projects.” “Would you assert this upon oath? Why are you casting these bullets? You are clumsy conspirators. You should lock your door; someone else might have entered.” And adding example to precept, he turned and pushed the bolt. “This is only an imprudence,” he continued; “but to reject a soldier who comes to you voluntarily would be a fault for which your associate would have a right to call you to account. I have no desire, understand me, to force myself into your confidence. No, I give myself to you blindly, body and soul. Whatever your cause may be, I declare it mine; what you wish, I wish; I adopt your plans; your enemies are my enemies; command, I will obey. I ask only one favor, that of fighting, of triumphing, or of dying by your side.” “Oh! refuse, father!” exclaimed Marie-Anne; “refuse. To accept this offer would be a crime!” “A crime! And why, if you please?” “Because our cause is not your cause; because its success is doubtful; because dangers surround us on every side.” A scornful exclamation from Maurice interrupted her. “And it is you who think to dissuade me by pointing out the dangers that threaten you, the dangers that you are braving----” “Maurice!” “So if imminent peril menaced me, instead of coming to my aid you would desert me? You would hide yourself, saying, ‘Let him perish, so that I be saved!’ Speak! Would you do this?” She averted her face and made no reply. She could not force herself to utter an untruth; and she was unwilling to answer: “I would act as you are acting.” She waited for her father’s decision. “If I should comply with your request, Maurice,” said M. Lacheneur, “in less than three days you would curse me, and ruin us by some outburst of anger. You love Marie-Anne. Could you see, unmoved, the frightful position in which she is placed? Remember, she must not discourage the addresses either of Chanlouineau or of the Marquis de Sairmeuse. You regard me--oh, I know as well as you do that it is a shameful and odious role that I impose upon her--that she is compelled to play a part in which she will lose a young girl’s most precious possession--her reputation.”