"But, believe me, my father, even if this were not the case, I should not desire to act without your approval, and I know I could never induce Madeleine to forego your consent to our union. But what valid objections can you have? You desired that Bertha should become my wife. Is not Madeleine precisely the same kin to me as Bertha? Is she not as good, as beautiful?"
"Oh, a thousand times better and lovelier!" exclaimed Bertha, with affectionate enthusiasm.
"There is but one difference: she is poor and Bertha is rich. Think you Bertha's fortune could have one feather's weight in deciding my choice? I thank Heaven for teaching me to account it more noble, more honorable, to ask what the woman I would marry is, than to inquire what she has."
His father made a vain attempt to speak. Maurice went on without noticing the futile effort.
"But this is not all: I dare to hope that Madeleine's heart is mine, while Bertha's is not. My father, you requested that Bertha and I should have an understanding with each other; and we have had one. Bertha has told me that she does not love me. Is it not so, Bertha?"
"I told you that I loved you with all my heart, as the dearest, most delightful cousin in the world!" answered Bertha, naïvely.
"Just as I love you!" replied Maurice, smiling upon her tenderly. "But, as a lover, you definitely rejected me,—did you not?"
"Oh, yes; just as you refused me. We are perfectly agreed upon that point," she rejoined, with childlike frankness and simplicity.
"For shame, Maurice!" said the countess, in a tone of angry rebuke.