“'And are you indeed going from hence, Mademoiselle?' said he, in a tone and accent so unlike his ordinary one as to make her start with surprise.
“'Yes, to be sure. We leave the day after to-morrow.'
“'And have you no regret, Mademoiselle, to leave the home of your childhood and those you have—known there?'
“'Sir!' replied she haughtily, as the tone of his voice assumed a meaning which could not be mistaken; 'you seem to have forgotten yourself somewhat, or you had not dared—'
“'Dared!' interrupted he, in a louder key,—'dared! I have dared more than that! Yes,' cried he, in a voice where passion could be no longer held under, 'Léon Guichard, the steward, has dared to love his master's daughter! Start not so proudly back, Madame! Time was when such an avowal had been a presumption death could not repay. But these days are passed; the haughty have been well humbled; they who deemed their blood a stream too pure to mingle with the current in plebeian veins, have poured it lavishly beneath the guillotine. Léon Guichard has no master now!'
“The fire flashed from his eyes as he spoke, and his color, pale at first, grew darker and darker, till his face became almost purple; while his nostrils, swelled to twice their natural size, dilated and contracted like those of a fiery charger. Terrified at the frightful paroxysm of passion before her, the timid girl endeavored to allay his anger, and replied,—
“'You know well, Léon, that my brother has ever treated you as a friend—'
“'He a friend!' cried he, stamping on the ground, while a look of demoniac malice lit up his features. 'He, who talks to me as though I were a vassal, a slave; he, who deems his merest word of approval a recompense for all my labor, all my toil; he, whose very glance shoots into my heart like a dagger! Think you I forgive him the contemptuous treatment of nineteen years, or that I can pardon insults because they have grown into habits? Hear me!'—he grasped her wrist rigidly as he spoke, and continued, 'I have sworn an oath to be revenged on him, from the hour when, a boy scarce eight years old, he struck me in the face, and called me canaille. I vowed his ruin. I toiled for it, I strove for it, and I succeeded,—ay, succeeded. I obtained from the Convention the confiscation of your lands,—all, everything you possessed. I held the titles in my possession, for I was the owner of this broad château,—ay, Léon Guichard! even so; you were but my guest here. I kept it by me many a day, and when your brother was drawn in the conscription I resolved to assert my right before the world.'
“He paused for a moment, while a tremendous convulsion shook his frame, and made him tremble liker one in an ague; then suddenly rallying, he passed his hand across his brow, and in a lower voice, resumed, 'I would have done so, but for you.'
“'For me! What mean you?' said she, almost sinking with terror.