“Then all is not lost?” said the old man.

“No, not if you keep your word.”

“I will obey you, my daughter,” answered Claes, with deep emotion.

The next day, Monsieur Conyncks of Cambrai came to fetch his great-niece.  He was in a travelling-carriage, and would only remain long enough for Marguerite and Martha to make their last arrangements.  Monsieur Claes received his cousin with courtesy, but he was obviously sad and humiliated.  Old Conyncks guessed his thoughts, and said with blunt frankness while they were breakfasting:—­

“I have some of your pictures, cousin; I have a taste for pictures,—­a ruinous passion, but we all have our manias.”

“Dear uncle!” exclaimed Marguerite.

“The world declares that you are ruined, cousin; but the treasure of a Claes is there,” said Conyncks, tapping his forehead, “and here,” striking his heart; “don’t you think so?  I count upon you:  and for that reason, having a few spare ducats in my wallet, I put them to use in your service.”

“Ah!” cried Balthazar, “I will repay you with treasures—­”

“The only treasures we possess in Flanders are patience and labor,” replied Conyncks, sternly.  “Our ancestor has those words engraved upon his brow,” he said, pointing to the portrait of Van Claes.

Marguerite kissed her father and bade him good-bye, gave her last directions to Josette and to Felicie, and started with Monsieur Conyncks for Paris.  The great-uncle was a widower with one child, a daughter twelve years old, and he was possessed of an immense fortune.  It was not impossible that he would take a wife; consequently, the good people of Douai believed that Mademoiselle Claes would marry her great-uncle.  The rumor of this marriage reached Pierquin, and brought him back in hot haste to the House of Claes.

Great changes had taken place in the ideas of that clever speculator.  For the last two years society in Douai had been divided into hostile camps.  The nobility formed one circle, the bourgeoisie another; the latter naturally inimical to the former.  This sudden separation took place, as a matter of fact, all over France, and divided the country into two warring nations, whose jealous squabbles, always augmenting, were among the chief reasons why the revolution of July, 1830, was accepted in the provinces.  Between these social camps, the one ultra-monarchical, the other ultra-liberal, were a number of functionaries of various kinds, admitted, according to their importance, to one or the other of these circles, and who, at the moment of the fall of the legitimate power, were neutral.  At the beginning of the struggle between the nobility and the bourgeoisie, the royalist “cafes” displayed an unheard-of splendor, and eclipsed the liberal “cafes” so brilliantly that these gastronomic fetes were said to have cost the lives of some of their frequenters who, like ill-cast cannon, were unable to withstand such practice.  The two societies naturally became exclusive.