with anybody
belonging to Jacob Ancel?"

"Oh, no, sir, no, you can't want money of us," shrieked Edward; "we are
the poorest people of the village: ruined, Monsieur Schneider, ruined in
the cause of the Republic."

"Silence, father," said my brave Mary; "this man wants a PRICE: he
comes, with his worthy friend yonder, to frighten us, not to kill us.
If we die, he cannot touch a sou of our money; it is confiscated to the
State. Tell us, sir, what is the price of our safety?"

Schneider smiled, and bowed with perfect politeness.

"Mademoiselle Marie," he said, "is perfectly correct in her surmise. I
do not want the life of this poor drivelling old man: my intentions
are much more peaceable, be assured. It rests entirely with this
accomplished young lady (whose spirit I like, and whose ready wit I
admire), whether the business between us shall be a matter of love or
death. I humbly offer myself, citizen Ancel, as a candidate for the
hand of your charming daughter. Her goodness, her beauty, and the
large fortune which I know you intend to give her, would render her a
desirable match for the proudest man in the republic, and, I am sure,
would make me the happiest."

"This must be a jest, Monsieur Schneider," said Mary, trembling, and
turning deadly pale: "you cannot mean this; you do not know me: you
never heard of me until to-day."

"Pardon me, belle dame," replied he; "your cousin Pierre has often
talked to me of your virtues; indeed, it was by his special suggestion
that I made the visit."

"It is false!--it is a base and cowardly lie!" exclaimed she (for
the young lady's courage was up),--"Pierre never could have forgotten
himself and me so as to offer me to one like you. You come here with
a lie on your lips--a lie against my father, to swear his life away,
against my dear cousin's honor and love. It is useless now to deny it:
father, I love Pierre Ancel; I will marry no other but him--no, though
our last penny were paid to this man as the price of our freedom."

Schneider's only reply to this was a call to his friend Gregoire.

"Send down to the village for the maire and some gendarmes; and tell
your people to make ready."

"Shall I put THE MACHINE up?" shouted he of the sentimental turn.

"You hear him," said Schneider; "Marie Ancel, you may decide the fate
of your father. I shall return in a few hours," concluded he, "and will
then beg to know your decision."

The advocate of the rights of man then lef