There was something in the old man's manner which seemed to imply more than his words expressed; and, determined to come to the point at once, I rose and took his hand in mine. "What is it you mean, La Tour?" I said. "There is something you would warn me of; there is something upon your mind. Speak out--speak plainly. We have always been honest and true towards each other; let us be so, I beseech you, still." "There is no reason why I should not be so toward you," replied La Tour; "No pledge has been extorted from me, no promise of secrecy has ever been asked. The baron, then, does destine Louise's hand to another. He has even, I believe, promised it." His words fell like drops of molten fire upon my heart; they were agony to me; they were beyond all agony I had ever felt before. "To whom?" I said, "To whom?" "To the Seigneur de Blaye," replied the good clergyman; "a Catholic, a persecutor, an enemy to the faith that we ourselves profess, but wealthy, powerful, handsome, brave, nobly connected--" I stamped my foot angrily upon the ground, exclaiming, "A libertine, a debauchee, a sot, and a fool!" "Indeed!" exclaimed the clergyman. "But how do you know all this, Henry de Cerons? Let not jealousy, my son, ever tempt you to take away the reputation of another; there is a great commandment against it. How can you know all this? I demand, Henry." "Because," I replied, "he was my prisoner and my guest for several days, and during that time he lived a life of folly, intemperance, and vice, which would have shamed the lowest debauchee in the most corrupt capital of Europe." "Alas! alas!" said the old clergyman, "you now do make me tenfold unhappy, indeed, Henry. I know you would not pervert the truth on any account, and yet I would fain believe that this terrible tale might be untrue." "It is as true as I live!" I replied, vehemently. "Does Louise herself know of this proposed marriage? Has she ever seen the man they seek to make her wed?" "Never," replied La Tour; "Nor does she know aught of it. He is distantly related to the baroness. She, doubtless, has managed the whole; and all I know is, that, on the application of this young lord, the baron replied that his daughter was still too young to wed, or even to think of marriage. What more he added I know not, but I understood that expectations, if not promises, were given." "They are promises that shall never be fulfilled!" I replied, seating myself more calmly at the table. "He shall never marry Louise de Blancford, were he as wealthy as an Indian king!" "How so?" demanded the good pastor. "Think what you say, my son, think what you say. What should stay him, Henry de Cerons?"