"Take care, Lacheneur," he said, sternly. "Think of the situation in
which you place your daughter, between Chanlouineau, who wishes to make
her his wife, and Monsieur de Sairmeuse, who desires to make her----"

"Who desires to make her his mistress--is that what you mean? Oh, say
the word. But what does that matter? I am sure of Marie-Anne."

M. d'Escorval shuddered.

"In other words," said he, in bitter indignation, "you make your
daughter's honor and reputation your stake in the game you are playing."

This was too much. Lacheneur could restrain his furious passion no
longer.

"Well, yes!" he exclaimed, with a frightful oath, "yes, you have spoken
the truth. Marie-Anne must be, and will be, the instrument of my plans.
A man situated as I am is free from the considerations that restrain
other men. Fortune, friends, life, honor--I have been forced to
sacrifice all. Perish my daughter's virtue--perish my daughter
herself--what do they matter, if I can but succeed?"

He was terrible in his fanaticism; and in his mad excitement he clinched
his hands as if he were threatening some invisible enemy; his eyes were
wild and bloodshot.

The baron seized him by the coat as if to prevent his escape.

"You admit it, then?" he said. "You wish to revenge yourself on the