Again he held up his hand.
“No more of that, M. de Tavernay. By the way, you have not yet asked me what her dowry is to be.”
“No,” I answered; “I had not thought of it.”
He smiled queerly.
“Well, we can settle all that to-morrow,” he said. “My chief concern is for your happiness. Tell me frankly, my friend, do you desire this marriage?”
“A man is bound by his oath, monsieur,” I answered, trembling a little, but meeting without flinching the searching gaze he bent upon me. “Courage! Courage!” my heart repeated.
“I press this point,” he added, “even perhaps to indiscretion, because M. de Marigny dropped what I fancied was a hint that you had formed another attachment.”
I put the past behind me and faced the future squarely. The moment had come to lie, and I met it as bravely as I could.
“M. de Marigny was mistaken,” I said steadily. “Be assured that if your daughter does me the honor to accept my hand she will find that my heart goes with it.”
He sprang to his feet and gripped both my hands in his.