of the prosperous French manufacturer. His voice was coldly harsh and
imperious.

"So! mademoiselle!"

He paused in the vestibule and gazed searchingly at the trembling
little woman with a fierce glare that made her feel as if she were
being shrivelled up where she stood.

"So! May I inquire whether I am on the threshold of Monsieur Jean
Marot's appartement or that of his--his----"

He was evidently making an effort to preserve his calmness, but the
words seemed to choke him.

The implication, though not at once fully understood by Mlle.
Fouchette, had the effect of rousing her powers of resistance.

"It is Monsieur Marot's, monsieur," she replied, with dignity.

"And you are----"

"His servant, monsieur."

"Oh! So!"

"And you, monsieur----"

"I am his father, mademoiselle."

"Ah!" He need not have told her that.

At this instant the inner door was thrown wide open, and Jean, who had
recognized his father's voice with consternation, was in the opening.

Father and son stood thus confronting each other for some seconds,
mute,--the father sternly and with unrelenting eye, the son with a
pride sustained by obstinacy and bitterness. The sting of his father's
letter was fresh, and he nerved himself for further insults. Nor had
he to wait long, for his father advanced upon him as he retired into
the room, with a growing menace in his tone at every successive step.

"So! Here you are, you--you----"

"Father!"

The old man had excitedly raised his hand as if to strike his son
without further words, but he found Mlle. Fouchette between them.

"Monsieur! Monsieur! Hold, Jean! Do not answer him! Not now,--not
now!"

The elder Marot glanced at her as if she were some sort of vermin.
This at first, then he hesitated before kicking her out of the way.

"Ah, messieurs! is it the way to reconciliation and love to go at it
in hot blood and hard words? Take a little time,--there is plenty and
to spare. Anger never settles anything. Sit down, monsieur, will you
not? Why, Monsieur Jean! Will you not offer your father a chair? And
remember, he is your father, monsieur. Remember that before you speak.
It is easy to say hard words, but the cure is slow and difficult,
messieurs. Why not deliberate and reason without anger?"

As she talked she placed chairs, towards one of which she gently urged
Marot senior. Then she insisted upon taking his hat. A man with his
hat off is not so easily roused to anger as he is with