"It would be insanity in the Marquis de Brezé to bestow his name on the daughter of a mechanic by occupation, a vagabond without lineage, of tainted blood, an adventurer who has roamed over Europe, supported in his youth by a woman of middle age whom there is good reason to suppose was his mistress. I knew well these particulars, dear son of mine, and you may imagine how they harassed me, but I rebuked myself, saying that dignity and morality might exist in the humblest rank. Still, as those who are not blinded by love must ascertain facts, I investigated the situation and obtained these corroborating documents. You will admit that my course has not been one of capricious obstinacy. Listen. The father of your idol, by name Naundorff, seems to be of Jewish extraction. His past is sullied by grave felonies. Here is the deposition of the burgomaster of Spandau and letters from other Prussian authorities--a formal conviction, in fact. As an incendiary, he set fire to the city theatre, as a counterfeiter, he manufactured sackfuls of coins, which, when caught in the act, he flung into the river Spree. He expiated his flagitious acts by serving in the penitentiary of Alstadt the sentence imposed by a German court. Now you know the truth and if you still desire to unite the Naundorff blazonry with the unblemished arms of Brezé, glorious with crusader trophies, you are free to do so. I cannot restrain you. If I could, I should. I have discharged my duty in warning you. You cannot allege ignorance. And now, René, leave me. I trust soon to know whether the heir of Rousillon lives or whether I must mourn his passing." This was the speech which the young Marquis had, earlier in the evening, abridged and modified before Amélie. And now, living over again the scene at the trellis, he felt that she would not forgive him and, nevertheless, that he could not live without her. Knightly honor, family pride, the obligations of nobility--all were impotent in combating his love for the fascinating, imperious girl. Chapter III THE ASSAULT Telling himself that he was reprehensively weak in failing to resist his passion, René gazed out upon the river. He reflected that its dark surface had closed over many human sorrows and perplexities which seemed beyond alleviation. A chill crept over him, then a dizziness, as he gazed into the glistening, alluring current of the Thames.