M. de Laurebourg had commented with some severity upon the conduct of the Duke de Champdoce towards his son, but he was perfectly willing to sacrifice his daughter’s heart for a suitable marriage.

“I shall gain my end,” murmured the girl, “I am sure of it.”

She had heard a friend of her father’s speaking of Norbert and his colossal expectations.

“Why should I not marry him?” she asked of her own heart; and, with the utmost skill, she applied herself to the execution of her design; for the idea of being a duchess, with an income of two hundred thousand francs, was a most fascinating one.  But how was she to meet Norbert?  And how bring over the money-raking Duke to her side?  Before, however, she could decide on any plan, she felt that she must see Norbert.  He was pointed out to her one day at Mass, and she was struck by his beauty and by an ease of manner which even his shabby dress could not conceal.  By the quick perception which many women possess, she dived into Norbert’s inmost soul; she felt that he had suffered, and her sympathy for him brought with it the dawn of love, and by the time she had left the chapel she had registered a solemn vow that she would one day be Norbert’s wife.  But she did not acquaint her parents with this determination on her part, preferring to carry out her plans without any aid or advice.  Mademoiselle Diana was shrewd and practical, and not likely to err from want of judgment.  The frank and open expression of her features concealed a mind of superior calibre, and one which well knew how to weigh the advantages of social rank and position.  She affected a sudden sympathy with the poor, and visited them constantly, and might be frequently met in the lanes carrying soup and other comforts to them.  Her father declared, with a laugh, that she ought to have been a Sister of Charity, and did not notice the fact that all Diana’s pensioners resided in the vicinity of Champdoce.  But it was in vain that she wandered about, continually changing the hour of her visits.  The “Savage of Champdoce” was not to be seen, nor was he even a regular attendant at Mass.  At last a mere trifle changed the whole current of the young man’s existence; for, a week after the conversation in which the Duke had laid bare his scheme to his son, he again referred to it, after their dinner, which they had partaken of at the same table with forty laborers, who had been hired to get in the harvest.

“You need not, my son,” began the old gentleman, “go back with the laborers to-day.”

“But, sir—­”

“Allow me to continue, if you please.  My confidential conversation with you the other night was merely a preliminary to my telling you that for the future I did not expect you to toil as hard as you had hitherto done, for I wish you to perform a duty less laborious, but more responsible; you will for the future act as farm-bailiff.”

Norbert looked up suddenly into his father’s face.