not that my daughter's hand is already sought by the son of an old
schoolfellow of mine, which circumstance, as you will readily understand,
does not permit of my entertaining an offer which otherwise should have
received the most mature consideration.' I had learned what I came for
without risking anything. Well, I didn't conceal from him that, so far
as I was concerned, I would rather you took your wife from the country
than that you brought home the most charming Parisienne; and that the
Mouillards from father to son had always taken their wives from Bourges.
He entered perfectly into my sentiments, and we parted the best of
friends. Now, my boy, the facts are ascertained: Mademoiselle Charnot is
another's; you must get your mourning over and start with me to-night.
To-morrow morning we shall be in Bourges, and you'll soon be laughing
over your Parisian delusions, I warrant you!"

I had heard my uncle out without interrupting him, though wrath,
astonishment, and my habitual respect for M. Mouillard were struggling
for the mastery within me. I needed all my strength of mind to answer,
with apparent calm.

"Yesterday, uncle, I had not made up my mind; today I have."

"You are coming?"

"I am not. Your action in this matter, uncle--I do not know if you are
aware of it--has been perfectly unheard-of. I can not acknowledge your
right to act thus. It puts between you and me two hundred miles of rail,
and that forever. Do you understand me? You have taken the liberty of
disclosing a secret which was not yours to tell; you have revealed a
passion which, as it was hopeless, should not have been further
mentioned, and certainly not exposed to such humiliation. You went to