s pass into the hands of a foreign
upstart. He, forsooth--he! he! he!" And at each utterance of the pronoun
he lunged with his forefinger in the direction of his son. "This he is
not ashamed to utter before Yvonne herself!"

"You compelled me to do so," cried Eugene angrily.

"I?" ejaculated the Chevalier. "Did I compel you to come hither with
your 'I will' and 'I will not'? Who are you, that you should give laws
at Canaples? And he adds, sir," quoth the old knight excitedly, "that
sooner than allow this marriage to take place he will kill M. de
Mancini."

"I shall be happy to afford him the opportunity!" shouted Andrea,
bounding forward.

Eugene looked up quickly and gave a short laugh. Thereupon followed a
wild hubbub; everyone rushed forward and everyone talked; even little
Genevieve--louder than all the rest.

"You shall not fight! You shall not fight!" she cried, and her voice
was so laden with command that all others grew silent and all eyes were
turned upon her.

"What affair is this of yours, little one?" quoth Eugene.

"'T is this," she answered, panting, "that you need fear no marriage
'twixt my sister and Andrea."

In her eagerness she had cast caution to the winds of heaven. Her father
and brother stared askance at her; I gave an inward groan.

"Andrea!" echoed Eugene at last. "What is this man to you that you speak
thus of him?"

The girl flung herself upon her father's breast.

"Father," she sobbed, "dear father, forgive!"

The Chevalier's brow grew dark; roughly he seized her by the arms and,
holding her at arm's length, scanned her face.

"What must I forgive?" he inquired in a thick voice. "What is M. de
Mancini to you?"

Some sinister note in her father's voice caused the girl to grow of a
sudden calm and to assume a rigidity that reminded me of her sister.

"He is my husband!" she answered. And there was a note of pride--almost
of triumph--in her voice.

An awful silence followed the launching of that thunderbolt. Eugene
stood with open mouth, staring now at Genevieve, now at his father.
Andrea set his arm about his bride's waist, and her fair head was laid
trustingly upon his shoulder. The Chevalier's eyes rolled ominously. At
length he spoke in a dangerously calm voice.

"How long is it--how long have you been wed?"

"We were wed in Blois an hour ago," answered Genevieve.

Something that was like a grunt escaped the Chevalier, then his eye
fastened upon me, and his anger boi