understood him better, and saw that life-long plans, such as the Duke
had framed, were not to be easily overruled.

"My father is mad," said he; "yes; decidedly mad."

He had made up his mind that for the present he would yield to his
despotism, but afterwards, in the future, what was he to do?

It is an easy thing to find persons to give you bad advice, and the
very next day Norbert found one at Bevron in the shape of a certain man
called Daumon, a bitter enemy of the Duke.



CHAPTER II.

A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE.

Daumon was not a native of this part of the country, and no one knew
from whence he came. He said that he had been an attorney's clerk, and
had certainly resided for a long time in Paris. He was a little man
of fifty years of age, clean shaved, and with a sharp and cunning
expression of countenance. His long nose, sharp, restless eyes, and thin
lips, attracted attention at first sight. His whole aspect aroused a
feeling of distrust. He had come to Bevron, some fifteen years before,
with all his provisions in a cotton handkerchief slung over his
shoulder. He was willing to make money in any way, and he prospered
and rose. He owned fields, vineyards, and a cottage, which is at the
juncture of the highway to Poitiers and the cross road that leads
to Bevron. His aim and object were to be seen everywhere, to know