"Let me keep Philippe," I said.

"So be it," he replied. "But don't be uneasy; you have money enough of
your own to be no burden either to your mother or me."

"May I ask how much I have?"

"Certainly, my child," he said. "Your grandmother left you five
hundred thousand francs; this was the amount of her savings, for she
would not alienate a foot of land from the family. This sum has been
placed in Government stock, and, with the accumulated interest, now
brings in about forty thousand francs a year. With this I had purposed
making an independence for your second brother, and it is here that
you have upset my plans. Later, however, it is possible that you may
fall in with them. It shall rest with yourself, for I have confidence
in your good sense far more than I had expected.

"I do not need to tell you how a daughter of the Chaulieus ought to
behave. The pride so plainly written in your features is my best
guarantee. Safeguards, such as common folk surround their daughters
with, would be an insult in our family. A slander reflecting on your
name might cost the life of the man bold enough to utter it, or the
life of one of your brothers, if by chance the right should not
prevail. No more on this subject. Good-bye, little one."

He kissed me on the forehead and went out. I cannot understand the
relinquishment of this plan after nine years' persistence in it. My
father's frankness is what I like. There is no ambiguity about his
words. My money ought to belong to his Marquis son. Who, then, has had