s ready, and what was my
astonishment on entering the room to see the table laid for six. I did
not want much insight now to see through the marquis's trick, but it was
too late. We sat down, and just then a young man came in.

"You are a little late," said the marquis; and then, without waiting for
his apology, he introduced him to me as M. Petri, his godson, and nephew
to his other guests, and he made him sit down at his left hand, Rosalie
being on his right. I sat opposite to her, and seeing that she turned as
pale as death the blood rushed to my face; I was terribly enraged. This
small despot's plot seemed disgraceful to me; it was a scandalous insult
to Rosalie and myself--an insult which should be washed away in blood. I
was tempted to stab him at his table, but in spite of my agitation I
constrained myself. What could I do? Take Rosalie's arm, and leave the
room with her? I thought it over, but foreseeing the consequences I could
not summon up courage.

I have never spent so terrible an hour as at that fatal dinner. Neither
Rosalie nor myself ate a morsel, and the marquis who helped all the
guests was discreet enough not to see that we left one course after
another untouched. Throughout dinner he only spoke to Petri and his
uncle, giving them opportunities for saying how large a trade they did.
At dessert the marquis told the young man that he had better go and look
after his affairs, and after kissing his hand he withdrew with a bow to
which nobody replied.

Petri was about twenty-four, of a moderate height, with ordinary but yet
good-natured and honest features; respectful in his manner, and sensible
though not witty in what he said. After all was said and done, I thought
him worthy of Rosalie, but I shuddered at the thought that if she became
his wife she was lost to me forever. After he had gone, the marquis said
he was sorry he had not known him before as he might be of use to him in
his business.

"However, we will see to that in the future," said he, meaningly, "I mean
to make his fortune."

At this the uncle and aunt, who no doubt knew what to say, began to laud
and extol their nephew, and ended by saying that as they had no children
they were delighted that Petri, who would be their heir, was to have his
excellency's patronage.

"We are longing," they added, "to see the girl from Marseilles he is
going to marry. We should welcome her as a beloved daughter."

Rosalie whispered to me that she could