rest; Sunday the publication of the banns, and at the
end of the following week the marriage will take place."

Mademoiselle Marie listened to her father's determination with intense
horror.

"For pity's sake, my dear father, be serious," cried she.

M. de Puymandour paid no attention to her entreaty, but added, as an
afterthought:

"Perhaps you would wish to know the name of the gentleman I have
selected as a husband for you. He is the Marquis Norbert, the son and
heir of the Duke de Champdoce."

Marie turned deadly pale.

"But I do not know him; I have never seen him," faltered she.

"_I_ know him, and that is quite sufficient. I have often told you that
you should be a duchess, and I mean to keep my word."

Marie's affection for George de Croisenois was much deeper than she
had told her father, much deeper even than she had dared to confess to
herself, and she resented this disposal of her with more obstinacy than
any one knowing her gentle nature would have supposed her capable of;
but M. de Puymandour was not the man to give up for an instant the
object which he had sworn to attain. He never gave his daughter an
instant's peace, he argued, insisted, and bullied until, after three
days' contest, Marie gave her assent with a flood of tears. The word had
scarcely passed her lips, before her father, without even thanking her
for her terrible sacrifice, exclaimed in a voice of triumph:

"I must take these tidings to Champdoce without a moment's delay."

He started at once, and as he passed through the doorway said:

"Good-by, my little duchess, good-by."

He was most desirous of seeing the Duke, for, on taking leave of him,
the old nobleman had said, "You shall hear from me to-morrow;" but no
letter had as yet reached him from Champdoce. This delay however, had
suited M. de Puymandour's plans, for it had enabled him to wring the
consent from his daughter; but now that this had been done, he began to
feel very anxious, and to fear that there might be some unforeseen hitch
in the affair.

When he reached Bevron, he saw Daumon talking earnestly with Francoise,
the daughter of the Widow Rouleau. M. de Puymandour bowed graciously,
and stopped to talk with the man, for he was just now seeking for
popularity, as he was a candidate, and the elections would shortly take
place; and, besides, he never failed to talk to persons who exercised
any degree of influence, and he knew that Daumon was a most useful man
in e