"that would perhaps be saying too much. Let me say that she has taken my
fancy; that will be sufficient."

The duke regarded his son with a bantering air.

"Really, you delight me!" he exclaimed. "I feared that this love-affair
might derange, at least for the moment, certain plans that I have
formed--for I have formed certain plans for you."

"The devil!"

"Yes, I have my plans, and I will communicate them to you later in
detail. I will content myself today by recommending you to examine
Mademoiselle Blanche de Courtornieu."

Martial made no reply. This recommendation was entirely unnecessary. If
Mlle. Lacheneur had made him forget Mlle. de Courtornieu that morning
for some moments, the remembrance of Marie-Anne was now effaced by the
radiant image of Blanche.

"Before discussing the daughter," resumed the duke, "let us speak of the
father. He is one of my strongest friends; and I know him thoroughly.
You have heard men reproach me for what they style my prejudices, have
you not? Well, in comparison with the Marquis de Courtornieu, I am only
a Jacobin."

"Oh! my father!"

"Really, nothing could be more true. If I am behind the age in which
I live, he belongs to the reign of Louis XIV. Only--for there is an