l kissing of hands,
'thou art returned. Had I known thine hour, I had gone down for thy
first embrace. But thou lookest fair, my child; the convent has made
thee lovelier than ever.'

'Father, who think you is here? It is he--the Baron.'

'The Baron? Eh, father!' she cried impetuously. 'Who could it be but
one?'

'My child, you are mistaken! That young hot-head can never be thrusting
himself here again.'

'But he is, father; I brought him into Paris in my coach! I left him at
the Ambassador's.'

'Thou shouldest have brought him here. There will be ten thousand fresh
imbroglios.'

'I could not; he is as immovable as ever, though unable to speak! Oh,
father, he is very ill, he suffers terribly. Oh, Narcisse! Ah! may I
never see him again!'

'But what brings him blundering her again?' exclaimed the Chevalier.
'Speak intelligibly, child! I thought we had guarded against that! He
knows nothing of the survivance.'

'I cannot tell much. He could not open his mouth, and his half-brother,
a big dull English boy, stammered out a few words of shocking French
against his will. But I believe they had heard of _la pauvre petite_ at
La Sablerie, came over for her, and finding the ruin my brother makes
wherever he goes, are returning seeking intelligence and succour for
HIM.'

'That may be,' said the Chevalier, thoughtfully. 'It is well thy brother
is in Poland. I would not see him suffer any more; and we may get him
back to England ere my son learns that he is here.'

'Father, there is a better way! Give him my hand.'

'_Eh quoi_, child; if thou art tired of devotion, there are a thousand
better marriages.'

'No, father, none so good for this family. See, I bring him all--all
that I was sold for. As the price of that, he resigns for ever all his
claims to the ancestral castle--to La Leurre, and above all, that claim
to Nid de Merle as Eustacie's widower, which, should he ever discover
the original contract, will lead to endless warfare.'

'His marriage with Eustacie was annulled. Yet--yet there might be
doubts. There was the protest; and who knows whether they formally
renewed their vows when so much went wrong at Montpipeau. Child, it is
a horrible perplexity. I often could wish we had had no warning, and
the poor things had made off together. We could have cried shame till we
forced out a provision for thy brother; and my poor little Eustacie---'
He had tears in his eyes as he broke off.

Diane made an impatient