“Well, then, tell me what passed between you for a woman of this stamp to sacrifice herself for a man she first intended to dupe, and afterwards to rob. For you cannot doubt the fact that she had plans concerning you?” “I am quite aware of the fact.” “She had had considerable experience in life, and yet—” “And yet she fell in love with a young man like myself. Well, probably because I was a change from all her other acquaintances. A cup of milk to a drunken man, for instance.” “And she killed herself for your sake, under your very eyes?” “Yes, Uncle Graff, because I would not promise to see her again.” “And yet you loved her?” “I both loved and hated her. Had I seen her again she would have obtained renewed dominion over me and ruined me. I determined it should not be so.” Uncle Graff sighed— “And do you sometimes think of this woman?” “Always.” “Do you know what you ought to do now, if you wish to turn over a new leaf?” “I know very well, my father spoke to me yesterday. And it is doubtless because I received his overtures coolly, that you are now returning to the same subject.” “You are right, my child. If you would only marry, now that you are reasonable and settled in life.” “Marry Geneviève de Trémont?” “Yes. She is the wife your father and mother have always intended for you. It would give them great pleasure, if you would marry her.” After a moment’s silence, Marcel said— “When Mademoiselle Lichtenbach came to warn you that a snare had been set for me, was she excited?” “Greatly excited.” “And you thought, when you saw her, that this extraordinary emotion was caused by some special interest she took in myself. At any rate, you said so to me.” “Certainly. I promised I would tell you. Besides, the child pleased me. She was anything but commonplace. And her determination the following morning confirmed the good opinion I had formed of her.” “Her resolve to enter the convent?” “You are right.” “In a word, then, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach has abjured the world for my sake. This child will have been recompensed for her devoted tenderness by the loss of everything happy and pleasant life had in store for her; and she is now destined to die poor; wearing a nun’s robe, with shorn hair, attending to the wants of the destitute?” “Yes.” “Uncle Graff, in your opinion, are children responsible for the misdeeds of their parents?” The old man did not reply. “You do not reply,” urged Marcel. “My question troubles you?” “It troubles me greatly. One day, in this very room, I told an envoy of Lichtenbach’s, who made us an offer of the hand of his daughter for you, that all the Graffs would rise in their graves if a Baradier were to marry a Lichtenbach.” “What!” exclaimed Marcel, greatly agitated. “Such an offer has been made, and you never informed me of it?”