Had not the inexorable old man once said, “You will marry a woman of wealth?” But in the event of this matter being brought up, Norbert swore that he would no longer be obedient, but would resist to the last; and he calculated on receiving assistance from Daumon.  He was on the point of referring to this matter, when a carriage drew up at the door of the cottage, and Mademoiselle de Laurebourg descended from it.  Daumon at once saw how matters stood, and wasted no time in addressing Diana.

“The sheriff will stop proceedings,” said he.  “I can show you his letter to that effect.”

He turned away, and searched as diligently for the letter as if it had existed anywhere except in his own imagination.

“Dear me,” said he at length.  “I cannot find it.  I must have left it in the other room.  I have so much to do, that really there are times when I forget everything.  I must find it, however.  Excuse me, I will be back immediately.”

His sudden departure from the room had been a mere matter of calculation; for, guessing that an assignation had been planned, he thought that he might know what took place at it by a little eavesdropping.  He therefore applied first his ear and then his eye to the keyhole, and by these means acquired all the information he desired.

A moment of privacy with the object of his affections seemed to Norbert an inestimable boon.  When Diana had first entered, he was horrified at the terrible alteration that had taken place in the expression of her face.  He seized her hand, which she made no effort to withdraw, and gazed fixedly into her eyes.

“Tell me,” murmured he in accents of love and tenderness, “what it is that has gone wrong.”

Diana sighed, then a tear coursed slowly down her cheek.  Norbert was in the deepest despair at these signs of grief.

“Great heavens!” cried he.  “Will you not trust me?  Am not I your truest and most devoted friend?”

At first she refused to answer him, but at length she yielded to his entreaties, and confessed that the evening before her father had informed her that a young man had sought her hand in marriage, and one who was a perfectly eligible suitor.

Norbert listened to this avowal, trembling from head to foot, with a sudden access of jealousy.

“And did you make no objections?” asked he.

“How could I?” retorted she.  “What can a girl do in opposition to the will of all her family, when she has to choose between the alternative that she loathes, or a life-long seclusion in a convent?”

Daumon shook with laughter, as he kept his ear closely to the keyhole.

“Good business,” muttered he.  “Not so bad.  Here’s a little girl from a convent.  She has a clever brain and a glib tongue, and under my tuition would be a perfect wonder.  If this country booby does not make an open declaration at once, I wonder what her next move will be?”