my confidence and my love has been misplaced."

"And you still insist upon my returning Sairmeuse to its former owner?"

"Honor speaks, my father."

M. Lacheneur made the arm-chair in which he was seated tremble by a
violent blow of his fist.

"And if I am just as obstinate," he exclaimed--"if I keep the
property--what will you do?"

"I shall say to myself, father, that honest poverty is better than
stolen wealth. I shall leave this chateau, which belongs to the Duc
de Sairmeuse, and I shall seek a situation as a servant in the
neighborhood."

M. Lacheneur sank back in his arm-chair sobbing. He knew his daughter's
nature well enough to be assured that what she said, that she would do.

But he was conquered; his daughter had won the battle. He had decided to
make the heroic sacrifice.

"I will relinquish Sairmeuse," he faltered, "come what may----"

He paused suddenly; a visitor was entering the room.

It was a young man about twenty years of age, of distinguished
appearance, but with a rather melancholy and gentle manner.