"Begin yourself by not telling me of actions on her part which are not those of the woman that I took her for after your confidences. I say nothing of her. I don't know her. I speak of your conduct toward our family. Will she or will she not be of our family if you marry her? Am I or am I not the head of that family? Have I the right to defend the name of Claviers-Grandchamp?"--He had risen and he bore down upon his son, with folded arms and a rush of blood to his aged face, of that blood whose claims he was asserting--and to whom! "And it is just when I have lost my dearest friend that you have done this to me, when you knew that I should be so stricken with grief!--In Heaven's name, who is this woman, who has so perverted your heart?--But what can she be if not a seeker of titles and wealth, having planned what she has planned in order to force herself upon us, upon me first of all, whether I will or no, by virtue of the accomplished fact?--But no! the fact shall not be accomplished. This marriage shall not take place. I, your father, do not wish it to take place--do you hear, Landri,--I do not wish it." The young man submitted to this formidable attack without replying. He shuddered when he heard that judgment of Valentine. But M. de Claviers was the only being on earth against whom he could not defend the woman he loved. Whence did he derive the right to raise his voice against him, even if he had the strength? And yet in the attempt to arrest that torrent of indignation, as to which he could not foresee how far it would carry the marquis, in view of his natural violence, he said simply, or, rather, groaned:-- "I shall not defend her against you. Not a word shall come from my mouth that lacks the respect that I owe you. Because of that, remember that she is a woman and that I love her." "She has forgotten that I am your father," retorted the irascible marquis. But he had not lied when, a few moments earlier, he had uttered with a sympathetic accent the word "chevalier." The legendary meaning of that venerable word, profaned by the most unwarranted usage, was still to him a living truth. That the young man should make that appeal to him was sufficient to induce him to interrupt his indictment of one who was absent. He reseated himself, and with his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands, he continued after a pause, in a tone in which wrath had given place to sadness:-- "Then you will send me a respectful summons,[5] I suppose?" "I shall have to," replied Landri, "if you do not give your consent." He realized that he was lost if he yielded to the emotion with which that plaint, so affectionate in its manly simplicity, had filled his heart anew. This constant laying bare to the quick of his sensitive nature by that man's mere presence proved to him once more how necessary it was that he should muster energy to complete the rupture. He loved him, he revered him too deeply to be able to live in falsehood with him.