"Is this some riddle, madame?" "I will speak more clearly. If my sister were to-morrow to recover her daughter, she would be certain not only to be restored to health, but to be wedded to the father of her child, who is now as free as herself. My niece died at six years old. Separated from her parents from a very tender age, they have not the slightest recollection of her. Suppose a young girl of seventeen was produced (my niece would be about that age),--a young girl (such as there are many) forsaken by her parents,--and it was said to my sister, 'Here's your daughter, for you have been imposed upon. Important interests have required that she should have been said to be dead. The female who brought her up and a respectable notary will confirm these facts, and prove to you that it is really she--'" Jacques Ferrand, after having allowed the countess to speak on without interruption, rose abruptly, and exclaimed, with an indignant air: "Madame, this is infamous!" "Sir!" "To dare to propose such a thing to me--to me! A supposititious child, the destruction of a registry of decease; a criminal act, indeed! It is the first time in my life that I was ever subjected to so outrageous a proposal,--a proposal I have not merited, and you know it!" "But, sir, what wrong does this do to any one? My sister and the individual she desires to marry are widow and widower, and childless, both bitterly lamenting the child they have lost. To deceive them is to restore them to happiness, to life, is to ensure a happy destiny to some poor, forsaken girl; and it becomes, therefore, a noble, a generous action, and not a crime!" "Really, madame, I marvel to see how the most execrable projects may be coloured, so as to pass for beautiful pictures!" "But, sir, reflect--" "I repeat to you, madame, that it is infamous! And it is shameful to see a lady of your rank lend herself to such abominable machinations,--to which, I trust, your sister is a stranger." "Sir--" "Enough, madame, enough! I am not a polished gentleman, I am not, and I shall speak my mind bluntly." Sarah gave the notary a piercing look with her jet-black eyes, and said, coldly: "You refuse?" "I pray, madame, that you will not again insult me." "Beware!" "What! Threats?" "Threats! And that you may learn they are not vain ones, learn, first, that I have no sister--" "What, madame?" "I am the mother of this child!" "You?" "I--I made a circuitous route to reach my end--coined a tale to excite your interest; but you are pitiless. I raise the mask, you are for war. Well, war be it then!" "War! Because I refuse to associate myself with you in a criminal machination! What audacity!" "Listen to me, sir! Your reputation as an honest man is established, acknowledged, undisputed--" "Because deserved; and, therefore, you must have lost your reason to make me such a proposal as you have done, and then threaten me because I will not accede to it."