"I have been too long away to guess his meaning, maybe," said the Professor at last; "for me--I would give--well, no matter--he is not the man, as I read him, to fall honestly in love even with the fairest girl that lives----!" "You are not polite," said Claire defiantly; "surely the man may like me for myself as well as another? Allow him that, at least!" But the Professor only put out his hand as if to quiet a fretting child. It was a serious question, that which was before them to settle. They must work it out with slow masculine persistence. "Wait a little, Claire," he said tenderly; "what say my brothers?" The Alcalde in turn shook his head more gravely than usual. "No," he said, "there is something rascally at the back of Don Raphael's brain. I will wager that he knew of his cousin being here the first night he came to La Masane!" "I have it," cried Don Jordy; "I remember there was something in his grandfather's will (yours, too, my pretty lady!) about a portion to be laid aside for his daughter Colette. I have seen a copy of the deed in the episcopal registry. It was very properly drawn by one of my predecessors. Now, old Don Emmanuel-Stephane Llorient lived so long that all his sons died or got themselves killed before him--it never was a hard matter to pick a quarrel with a Llorient of Collioure. So this grandson Raphael had his grandfather's estates to play ducks and drakes with----" "More ducks than drakes," put in the sententious miller. "Also," the lawyer continued, without heeding, "I would wager that to-day there is but little left of the patrimony of little Colette, your mother, and----" "He would marry you to hide his misuse of your money!" cried the miller, slapping his thigh, as if he had discovered the whole plot single-handed. "Exactly," said Don Jordy, "he would cover his misappropriation with the cloak of marriage. I warrant also he has lied to the King as to the amount of the legacy, perhaps denying that there was any benefice at all--saying that he had paid the amount to your father--or what not! And our most catholic Philip can forgive all sins except those which lose him money--so Master Raphael finds himself in a tight place!" The silence which followed Don Jordy's exposition was a solemn one--that is, to all except Claire, who only pouted a little with ostentatious discontent. "I don't believe a word of it," she cried; "money or no money, will or no will, it is just as possible that he wants to marry me--because--because he wants to marry me! There!" But the Señora knew better.