her--thus named by Etienne for the first time--quiver.

The duke took Beauvouloir by the arm and led him to the next room,
where, having pushed him into the recess of a window, he said:--

"Ah ca! old rascal, now we will understand each other."

That term, a favorite sign of graciousness with the duke, made the
doctor, no longer a mere bonesetter, smile.

"You know," said the duke, continuing, "that I wish you no harm. You
have twice delivered my poor Jeanne, you cured my son Maximilien of an
illness, in short, you are a part of my household. Poor Maximilien! I
will avenge him; I take upon myself to kill the man who killed him. The
whole future of the house of Herouville is now in your hands. You alone
can know if there is in that poor abortion the stuff that can breed a
Herouville. You hear me. What think you?"

"His life on the seashore has been so chaste and so pure that nature is
sounder in him than it would have been had he lived in your world. But
so delicate a body is the very humble servant of the soul. Monseigneur
Etienne must himself choose his wife; all things in him must be the
work of nature and not of your will. He will love artlessly, and will
accomplish by his heart's desire that which you wish him to do for the
sake of your name. But if you give your son a proud, ungainly woman
of the world, a great lady, he will flee to his rocks. More than that;
though sudden terror would surely kill him, I believe that any sudden
emotion would be equally fatal. My advice therefore is to leave Etienne
to choose for himself, at his own pleasure, the path of love. Listen to
me, monseigneur; you are a great and powerful prince, but you understand
nothing of such matters. Give me your entire confidence, your unlimited
confidence, and you shall have a grandson."

"If I obtain a grandson by any sorcery whatever, I shall have you
ennobled. Yes, difficult as it may be, I'll make an old rascal into a
man of honor; you shall be Baron de Forcalier. Employ your magic, white
or black, appeal to your witches' sabbath or the novenas of the Church;
what care I how 'tis done, provided my line male continues?"

"I know," said Beauvouloir, "a whole chapter of sorcerers capable of
destroying your hopes; they are none other than _yourself_, monseigneur.
I know you. To-day you want male lineage at any price; to-morrow you
will seek to have it on your own conditions; you will torment your son."

"God preserve me from it!"

"Well, t