Joseph, to conceal an unaccountable sense of confusion, commenced playing a little old-fashioned “coranto,” which was the only piece he knew perfectly by heart. Clémence expressed her sense of the inexpressible in another way. “How silent we all are!” she exclaimed, and rose. Luc looked up instantly. “I fear I disturbed you,” he said; she had come a few steps from the hearth, and their eyes met. “You look strange to-night,” murmured Clémence, as if they had been alone. “I have come to a resolution, that is all,” he answered quietly. “Nothing so very momentous.” He smiled, and looked from the girl to his father. “Monseigneur, I have decided to go to Paris.” The old Marquis put down his book. “I thought you wished to remain in Aix,” he said, in a low voice. “I cannot,” replied Luc. “Father, I must go.” There was a note of almost entreaty in his voice, for his mother had risen and Joseph ceased playing, and he foresaw protest and complaint; Clémence had hung her head; all the old chains tightening about him. “I must go,” he repeated. “You have been away so much,” said the Marquise. “Will you not stay at home now, Luc?” “Madame,” he answered, “I shall return, but I must go, and soon, to Paris.” His father rose. “But, dear Heaven, what chance have you in Paris?” “I must make my own chances,” smiled Luc. The old Marquis and Joseph both surveyed him with a certain pride. Luc was indescribably touched to see that mingled look of satisfaction and solicitude on their faces. He crossed impulsively to the clavichord and the sofa, and held out his hands, one to his father, one to his brother. “Do not think I am eager to be gone,” he said, with a fine flush. “It is only that I have not earned this home--yet.” Joseph thought he referred to his fortune spent at the war, leaving him dependent on their father, and blushed furiously. “Luc----” he began desperately. Their father interrupted. “Joseph, he must go. I understand. He will be the head of the family, and, bred a soldier, he finds this a poor life.... You shall go, Luc, but we must see you back soon.... Your place is at Aix.” PART II THE QUEST SORROWFUL “Voyez ce que fait la gloire: le tombeau ne peut l’obscurcir, son nom règne encore sur la terre qu’elle a décorée; féconde jusque dans les ruines et la nudité de la mort, ses exemples la réproduisent, et elle s’accroît d’âge en âge. Cultivez-là donc, car si vous la négligiez bientôt vous négligeriez la vertu même, dont elle est la fleur. Ne croyez pas qu’on puisse obtenir la vraie gloire sans la vraie vertu, ni qu’on puisse se maintenir dans la vertu sans l’aide de la gloire.”--MARQUIS DE VAUVENARGUES. CHAPTER I PARIS Luc de Clapiers stood on the Pont Neuf gazing over the great city.