"What! What!! What!!! you dare to tell me that you refuse?" said Payot, his voice rising almost to a scream. "You silly child, you don't appreciate the honour he is doing you. Why, Pierre can have the pick of half the girls in Paris. A chance like this will never occur again. Consider what it means," and he marked off the points with his fingers one by one. "A fine, handsome, devoted husband. A large fortune. A magnificent 'Dot.' Carriages and horses. A country chateau. A house in the Bois. Jewels. Think of it, Renée, any quantity of diamonds and pearls. Dresses and servants to your heart's content. Introductions to all the best houses in Paris, and a box at the opera. Why, all your girl acquaintances will grow green with envy. In God's name what more can you want? Such a lucky girl as you ought to be beside herself with joy." "Please, father, do drop the subject. I will never, never marry Pierre--I detest him. Besides, I don't want any diamonds or a box at the opera." "You ungrateful, wretched, hateful minx," shouted Payot, working himself up into a rage. "Is this the way you repay me for all my love and affection? Have I not toiled all these years to give you, my only child, a fortune and a position? And now you dare to refuse to marry the son of my best friend. Are you without a spark of gratitude? Are you blind to your own interests? Can't you see that I am arranging a marriage for you which will at once introduce you into all the best circles in Paris? You ought to fall on your knees and thank God that He has vouchsafed such happiness to you. You miserable thing, you vile.... I disown you," said her father, trying in vain to think of a suitable epithet. "How dare you disobey your father's wishes?" And he shook her violently with both hands until her teeth chattered. "Don't, don't, you'll kill me," sobbed Renée, trying to escape. "Oh, father, why can't you leave me alone to be happy in my own way? Oh, what is the matter? How strange you are. You don't look a bit like the dear old father you used to be." And she looked at her father with a terrified expression. He stood before her nearly beside himself with passion and hardly able to breathe. Renée slowly rose and held on to the table to steady herself, her heart thumping almost audibly, while she strove to hold back her sobs which were nearly choking her. Monsieur Payot sat down in his chair, feeling keenly the rebuff that his daughter had given him, a defeat which he was not accustomed to, especially from his daughter who, as a rule, gave way to him at once. He wiped away the perspiration from his brow with his red silk handkerchief, while he revolved in his mind what move he should take next. At length an idea struck him. "Look here, my child, be reasonable. Your old father only wishes to see you happy," and he tried in vain to smile sweetly, while he patted her head affectionately. "You love your father, don't you?"