has adopted extreme resolutions. Speak, let us combat them together.
Lacheneur knows how devotedly I am attached to him. I will speak to him;
he will listen to _me_."

"_I_ can tell you nothing, Monsieur."

"What! you are so cruel as to remain inflexible when a father entreats
you on his knees--a father who says to you: 'Marie-Anne, you hold in
your hands the happiness, the life, the reason of my son----'"

Tears glittered in Marie-Anne's eyes, but she drew away her hand.

"Ah! it is you who are cruel, Monsieur; it is you who are without pity.
Do you not see what I suffer, and that it is impossible for me to endure
further torture? No, I have nothing to tell you; there is nothing
you can say to my father. Why do you seek to impair my courage when I
require it all to struggle against my despair? Maurice must forget me;
he must never see me again. This is fate; and he must not fight against
it. It would be folly. We are parted forever. Beseech Maurice to leave
the country, and if he refuses, you, who are his father, must command
him to do so. And you, too, Monsieur, in Heaven's name, flee from us.
We shall bring misfortune upon you. Never return here; our house is
accursed. The fate that overshadows us will ruin you also."

She spoke almost wildly. Her voice was so loud that it penetrated an
adjoining room.

The communicating door opened and M. Lacheneur appeared upon the
threshold.