s word, his heart, his honour, in another quarter, and could not,
therefore, nay, would not, consent to poison his future existence by
uniting himself with Mademoiselle de Merode, for whom, indeed, he felt
the profoundest esteem, but not the slightest emotion of affection or
regard.

'Your word, your honour, your heart--you should have added your
fortune,' replied M. de Veron with frigid, slowly-distilled, sarcastic
bitterness--'are irrevocably engaged, are they, to Adeline le Blanc,
sister of my collecting clerk--daughter of a deceased sous-lieutenant
of the line'----

'Of the Imperial Guard,' interposed Eugene.

'Who aids her mother to eke out a scanty pension by embroidery'----

'Very superior, artistic embroidery,' again interjected the son.

'Be it so. I have not been quite so unobservant, Eugene, of certain
incidents, as you and your friends appear to have supposed. But time
proves all things, and the De Merodes and I can wait.'

Nothing further passed till M. de Veron rose to leave the room, when
his son, with heightened colour and trembling speech, although
especially aiming at a careless indifference of tone and manner, said:
Sir--sir--one word, if you please. I have a slight favour to ask.
There are a few debts, to the amount of about two thousand francs,
which I wish to discharge immediately--this morning, in fact.'

'Debts to the amount of about two thousand francs, which you wish to
discharge immediately--this morning, in fact,' slowly repeated De
Veron, fixing on his son a triumphant, mocking glance, admirably
seconded by the curve of his thin white lips. 'Well, let the bills be
sent to me. If correct and fair, they shall be paid.'

'But--but, father, one, the chief item, is a debt of honour!'

'Indeed! Then your honour is pledged to others besides Mademoiselle
_la brodeuse_? I have only to say, that in that case I _will not_
assist you.' Having said this, M. de Veron, quite regardless of his
son's angry expostulations, limped out of the apartment, and shortly
after, the sound of carriage-wheels announced his departure to Le
Havre. Eugene, about an hour afterwards followed, vainly striving to
calm his apprehensions by the hope, that before the day for balancing
Edouard's accounts arrived, he should find his father in a more
Christian-like and generous mood, or, at any rate, hit upon some means
of raising the money.

The day, like the gorgeous procession that swept through the crowded
streets, p