ever! him you abuse, as his partner in life
for all it may give!--as his wife! Trample on him, you trample on me.
Make black brows at your child for choosing the man, of all men alive, to
worship and follow through the world. I do. I am his. I glory in him.'

Her gaze on Alvan said: 'Now!' Was she not worthy of him now? And would
they not go forth together now? Oh! now!

Her gaze was met by nothing like the brilliant counterpart she merited.
It was as if she had offered her beauty to a glass, and found a
reflection in dull metal. He smiled calmly from her to her mother. He
said:

'You accuse me of stealing your child, madame. You shall acknowledge that
you have wronged me. Clotilde, my Clotilde! may I count on you to do all
and everything for me? Is there any sacrifice I could ask that would be
too hard for you? Will you at one sign from me go or do as I request
you?'

She replied, in an anguish over the chilling riddle of his calmness: 'I
will,' but sprang out of that obedient consent, fearful of over-acting
her part of slave to him before her mother, in a ghastly apprehension of
the part he was for playing to the same audience. 'Yes, I will do all,
all that you command. I am yours. I will go with you. Bid me do whatever
you can think of, all except bid me go back to the people I have hitherto
called mine:--not that!'

'And that is what I have to request of you,' said he, with his calm smile
brightening and growing more foreign, histrionic, unreadable to her. 'And
this greatest sacrifice that you can perform for me, are you prepared to
do it? Will you?'

She tried to decipher the mask he wore: it was proof against her
imploring eyes. 'If you can ask me--if you can positively wish it--yes,'
she said. 'But think of what you are doing. Oh! Alvan, not back to them!
Think!'

He smiled insufferably. He was bent on winning a parent-blest bride, an
unimpeachable wife, a lady handed to him instead of taken, one of the
world's polished silver vessels.

'Think that you are doing this for me!' said he. 'It is for my sake. And
now, madame, I give you back your daughter. You see she is mine to give,
she obeys me, and I--though it can be only for a short time--give her
back to you. She goes with you purely because it is my wish: do not
forget that. And so, madame, I have the honour,' he bowed profoundly.

He turned to Clotilde and drew her within his arm. 'What you have done in
obedience to my wish, my beloved, shall neve