“Yes, I heard of her accident.”

“And yet you sent her a summons, and are ready to seize all she possesses in the world.”

Daumon put on an air of sympathy.

“Poor thing!” said he.  “How true it is that misfortunes never come singly!”

Diana was disgusted at the man’s cool effrontery.

“It seems to me,” answered she, “that her last trouble is of your making.”

“Is it possible?”

“Why, who is it but you who are the persecutor of this poor lone creature?”

“I!” answered he in extreme astonishment; “do you really think that it is I?  Ah! mademoiselle, why do you listen to the cruel tongues of scandal-mongers?  To make a long story short, this poor woman bought barley, corn, potatoes, and three sheep from a man in the neighborhood, who gave her credit to the extent of I daresay three hundred francs.  Well, in time, the man asked—­most naturally—­for his money, and failing to get it, came to me.  I urged him to wait, but he would not listen to me, and vowed that if I did not do as he wished he would go to some one else.  What was I to do?  He had the law on his side too.  Ah!” continued he, as though speaking to himself, “if I could only see a way of getting this poor creature out of her trouble!  But that cannot be done without money.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out about fifty francs.

“This is all my worldly wealth,” said he sadly.  “But how foolish I am!  For, of course, when poor Widow Rouleau has a wealthy young lady to take an interest in her, she must have no further fear.”

“I will speak to my father on the matter,” answered Diana in a voice which showed that she had but little hope of interesting him in the widow’s misfortunes.

Daumon’s face fell.

“You will go to the Marquis de Laurebourg?” asked he.  “Now, if you would take my advice, I should say, go to some intimate friend,—­to the Marquis de Champdoce, for instance.  I know,” he went on, “that the Duke does not make his son a very handsome allowance; but the young gentleman will find no difficulty in raising whatever he may desire—­as it will not be long before he is of age—­without counting his marriage, which will put an enormous sum at his disposal even before that.”

Diana fell in an instant into the trap the wily Daumon had laid for her.

“A marriage!” exclaimed she.

“I know very little about it; only I know that if the young man wishes to marry without his father’s consent, he will have to wait at least five years.”

“Five years?”

“Yes; the law requires that a young man who marries against his father’s desire should be twenty-five years of age.”

This last stroke was so totally unexpected, that the girl lost her head.

“Impossible!” cried she.  “Are you not making a mistake?”

The Counsellor gave a quiet smile of triumph.

“I am not mistaken,” said he, and calmly pointed out in the code the provision to which he had alluded.  As Diana read the passage to which his finger pointed, he watched her as a cat watches a mouse.