lone with
you, which proves that girls should not be headstrong, my dear child."

He, Costeclar, he dared to call her, "My dear child." Indignant and
insulted, "Oh!" she exclaimed. But he had started, and kept on,

"Well, such as I was, I am still. To be sure, there probably would
be nothing further said about marriage between us; but, frankly,
what would you care if the conditions were the same,--a fine house,
carriages, horses, servants--"

Up to this moment, she had not fully understood him. Drawing
herself up to her fullest height, and pointing to the door,

"Leave this moment," she ordered.

But he seemed in no wise disposed to do so: on the contrary, paler
than usual, his eyes bloodshot, his lips trembling, and smiling a
strange smile, he advanced towards Mlle. Gilberte.

"What!" said he. "You are in trouble, I kindly come to offer my
services, and this is the way you receive me! You prefer to work,
do you? Go ahead then, my lovely one, prick your pretty fingers,
and redden your eyes. My time will come. Fatigue and want, cold
in the winter, hunger in all seasons, will speak to your little
heart of that kind Costeclar who adores you, like a big fool that
he is, who is a serious man and who has money,--much money."

Beside herself,

"Wretch!" cried the girl, "leave, leave at once."

"One moment," said a strong voice.

M. Costeclar looked around.

Marius de Tregars stood within the frame of the open door.

"Marius!" murmured Mlle. Gilberte, rooted to the spot by a surprise
hardly less immense than her joy.

To behold him thus suddenly, when she was wondering whether she
would ever see him again; to see him appear at the very moment
when she found herself alone, and exposed to the basest outrages,
--it was one of those fortunate occurrences which one can scarcely
realize; and from the depth of her soul rose something like a hymn
of thanks.

Nevertheless, she was confounded at M. Costeclar's attitude.
According to her, and from what she thought she knew, he should have
been petrified at the sight of M. de Tregars.

And he did not even seem to know him. He seemed shocked, annoyed
at being interrupted, slightly surprised, but in no wise moved or
frightened. Knitting his brows,

"What do you wish?" he inquired in his most impertinent tone.

M. de Tregars stepped forward. He was somewhat pale, but unnaturally
calm, cool, and collected. Bowing to Mlle. Gilberte,

"If I have thus ventured