ch treatment to-morrow."

Eugenie, hearing herself mentioned, came out of her room.

"Gentlemen," she said, coming forward with a proud step, "I beg you not
to interfere in this matter. My father is master in his own house. As
long as I live under his roof I am bound to obey him. His conduct is
not subject to the approbation or the disapprobation of the world; he
is accountable to God only. I appeal to your friendship to keep total
silence in this affair. To blame my father is to attack our family
honor. I am much obliged to you for the interest you have shown in
me; you will do me an additional service if you will put a stop to
the offensive rumors which are current in the town, of which I am
accidentally informed."

"She is right," said Madame Grandet.

"Mademoiselle, the best way to stop such rumors is to procure your
liberty," answered the old notary respectfully, struck with the beauty
which seclusion, melancholy, and love had stamped upon her face.

"Well, my daughter, let Monsieur Cruchot manage the matter if he is so
sure of success. He understands your father, and how to manage him. If
you wish to see me happy for my few remaining days, you must, at any
cost, be reconciled to your father."

On the morrow Grandet, in pursuance of a custom he had begun since
Eugenie's imprisonment, took a certain number of turns up and down the
little garden; he had chosen the hour when Eugenie brushed and arranged
her hair. When the old man reached the walnut-tree he hid behind its
trunk and remained for a few moments watching his daughter's movements,
hesitating, perhaps, between the course to which the obstinacy of his
character impelled him and his natural desire to embrace his child.
Sometimes he sat down on the rotten old bench where Charles and Eugenie
had vowed eternal love; and then she, too, looked at her father secretly
in the mirror before which she stood. If he rose and continued his walk,
she sat down obligingly at the window and looked at the angle of the
wall where the pale flowers hung, where the Venus-hair grew from the
crevices with the bindweed and the sedum,--a white or yellow stone-crop
very abundant in the vineyards of Saumur and at Tours. Maitre Cruchot
came early, and found the old wine-grower sitting in the fine June
weather on the little bench, his back against the division wall of the
garden, engaged in watching his daughter.

"What may you want, Maitre Cruchot?" he said, perceiving the notary.