the priest honored the man.

For M. d'Escorval, above all others, Abbe Midon would make haste. The
baron was his friend; and a terrible apprehension seized him when he saw
Mme. d'Escorval at the gate watching for him. By the way in which
she rushed to meet him, he thought she was about to announce some
irreparable misfortune. But no--she took his hand, and, without uttering
a word, she led him to her son's chamber.

The condition of the poor youth was really very critical; the abbe
perceived this at a glance, but it was not hopeless.

"We will get him out of this," he said, with a smile that reawakened
hope.

And with the coolness of an old practitioner, he bled him freely, and
ordered applications of ice to his head.

In a moment all the household were busied in fulfilling the cure's
orders. He took advantage of the opportunity to draw the baron aside in
the embrasure of a window.

"What has happened?" he asked.

"A disappointment in love," M. d'Escorval replied, with a despairing
gesture. "Monsieur Lacheneur has refused the hand of his daughter, which
I asked in behalf of my son. Maurice was to have seen Marie-Anne to-day.
What passed between them I do not know. The result you see."

The baroness re-entered the room, and the two men said no more. A truly