At this point Amélie arose and threw herself into her father's arms, while Jeanne buried her face in her hands. René observed that the wife was not really included in the demonstration and that Naundorff and Amélie constituted a group of attuned souls. As she drew herself from her father who kissed her fair forehead, she turned to René and said serenely: "Monsieur Marquis de Brezé, we have complied to the extent of our power with the obligations of hospitality and gratitude. We owe you an eternal debt. On leaving, you shall carry with you my father's pistols, which he imprudently refuses to carry himself, notwithstanding numerous evidences of treachery. But before you leave, I wish to hear my father vindicate himself." She made a significant gesture to Naundorff, who then said gently to his wife: "Jeanne, my own, go and see if the children are sleeping. Don't let them know what has happened to-night." Jeanne complied with a smile. Amélie then resumed the conversation with her usual vivacity. "Without detracting from our gratitude, Marquis, permit me to say that friendship must be based upon esteem. If you do not esteem my father according to his deserts; if, on saving his life through a noble impulse, you fail to profess for him a respect which is his due, we shall perpetuate our gratitude but withhold our hospitality in the future, unless some day you call upon us, to demand the life to which your conduct tonight entitles you. This is my attitude, Monsieur, and my father's also." "What do you mean, my daughter?" interposed Naundorff. "The Marquis understands me," replied the girl, lowering her eyes. "He will admit that I speak with warrant." Naundorff, with unfeigned amazement gazed from one to the other. The heightened color in both young faces revealed the truth. "Monsieur le Marquis, have you had previous acquaintance with my daughter?" "I have had that honor, Monsieur Naundorff, at the house of Elois Adhemar, miller on my patrimonial estate." "What has been the nature of the friendship which you have entertained for the Marquis?" asked Naundorff of Amélie. "I do not need to urge you to speak the truth." "Indeed you do not my father. René de Giac was my lover, pledged to be my husband. He is," she observed, as though the detail were of extreme importance, "a scion of the first nobility of France." "Compose yourself, my daughter," said Naundorff, for her voice had suddenly quavered with emotion. "To love is law. Your father has loved intensely. Your lover is worthy of you." "That is what remains to be proved," she replied haughtily. "That is what Monsieur le Marquis will demonstrate without delay. We wait--" René was amazed at her intrepidity and he answered with some vehemence: