"The Marquis understands me," replied the girl, lowering her eyes. "He will admit that I speak with warrant."
Naundorff, with unfeigned amazement gazed from one to the other. The heightened color in both young faces revealed the truth.
"Monsieur le Marquis, have you had previous acquaintance with my daughter?"
"I have had that honor, Monsieur Naundorff, at the house of Elois Adhemar, miller on my patrimonial estate."
"What has been the nature of the friendship which you have entertained for the Marquis?" asked Naundorff of Amélie. "I do not need to urge you to speak the truth."
"Indeed you do not my father. René de Giac was my lover, pledged to be my husband. He is," she observed, as though the detail were of extreme importance, "a scion of the first nobility of France."
"Compose yourself, my daughter," said Naundorff, for her voice had suddenly quavered with emotion. "To love is law. Your father has loved intensely. Your lover is worthy of you."
"That is what remains to be proved," she replied haughtily. "That is what Monsieur le Marquis will demonstrate without delay. We wait—"
René was amazed at her intrepidity and he answered with some vehemence:
"Mademoiselle wounds but does not offend. She will testify that I have reverenced her honor, that it has been as sacred to me as that of a beloved sister. And in vindication, I now improve the present occasion to address my plea to her father. Monsieur Naundorff, the Marquis de Brezé asks for the hand of your daughter."