ery rightly dear to you. But evidently
in this duel it is not M. de la Marche who would be in danger."

"Then it would be Bernard," cried Edmee. "Well, I should hate M. de la
Marche, if he insisted on a duel with this poor boy, who only knows how
to handle a stick or a sling. How can such ideas occur to you, abbe?
You must really loathe this unfortunate Bernard. And fancy me getting
my husband to cut his throat as a return for having saved my life at the
risk of his own. No, no; I will not suffer any one either to challenge
him, or humiliate him, or persecute him. He is my cousin; he is a
Mauprat; he is almost a brother. I will not let him be driven out of
this home. Rather I will go myself."

"These are very generous sentiments, Edmee," answered the abbe. "But
with what warmth you express them! I stand confounded; and, if I were
not afraid of offending you, I should confess that this solicitude for
young Mauprat suggests to me a strange thought."

"Well, what is it, then?" said Edmee, with a certain brusqueness.

"If you insist, of course I will tell you: you seem to take a deeper
interest in this young man than in M. de la Marche, and I could have
wished to think otherwise."

"Which has the greater need of this interest, you bad Christian?" said
Edmee with a smile. "Is it not the hardened sinner whose eyes have never
looked upon the light?"

"But, come, Edmee! You love M. de la Marche, do you not? For Heaven's
sake do not jest."

"If by love," she replied in a serious tone, "you mean a feeling of
trust and friendship, I love M. de la Marche; but if you mean a feeling
of compassion and solicitude, I love Bernard. It remains to be seen
which of these two affections is the deeper. That is your concern, abbe.
For my part, it troubles me but little; for I feel that there is only
one being whom I love with passion, and that is my father; and only one
thing that I love with enthusiasm, and that is my duty. Probably I shall
regret the attentions and devotion of the lieutenant-general, and I
shall share in the grief that I must soon cause him when I announce that
I can never be his wife. This necessity, however, will by no means drive
me to desperation, because I know that M. de la Marche will quickly
recover. . . . I am not joking, abbe; M. de la Marche is a man of no
depth, and somewhat cold."

"If your love for him is no greater than this, so much the better. It
makes one trial less among your many trials. Still, t