“But you are only a child, Maurice; and your father is my friend.”
“What of that?”
“Rash boy! do you not understand that by compromising yourself you also compromise Baron d’Escorval? You think you are risking only your own head; you are endangering your father’s life——”
But Maurice violently interrupted him.
“There has been too much parleying already!” he exclaimed; “there have been too many remonstrances. Answer me in a word! Only understand this: if you reject me, I will return to my father’s house, and with this gun which I hold in my hand I will blow out my brains.”
This was no idle threat. It was evident that what he said, that would he do. His listeners were so convinced of this, that Marie-Anne turned to her father with clasped hands and a look of entreaty.
“You are one of us, then,” said M. Lacheneur, sternly; “but do not forget that you forced me to consent by threats; and whatever may happen to you or yours, remember that you would have it so.”
But these gloomy words produced no impression upon Maurice; he was wild with joy.
“Now,” continued M. Lacheneur, “I must tell you my hopes, and acquaint you with the cause for which I am laboring——”
“What does that matter to me?” Maurice exclaimed, gayly; and, springing toward Marie-Anne, he seized her hand and raised it to his lips, crying, with the joyous laugh of youth: