From Martial’s sneering tone, Maurice was certain that he had overheard, at least a part of, his conversation with Marie-Anne.

“My right,” he replied, “is that of friendship.  If I tell you that your advances are unwelcome, it is because I know that Monsieur Lacheneur will accept nothing from you.  No, nothing, under whatever guise you may offer these alms which you tender merely to appease your own conscience.  He will never forgive the affront which is his honor and your shame.  Ah! you thought to degrade him, Messieurs de Sairmeuse! and you have lifted him far above your mock grandeur. He receive anything from you!  Go; learn that your millions will never give you a pleasure equal to the ineffable joy he will feel, when seeing you roll by in your carriage, he says to himself:  ‘Those people owe everything to me!’”

His burning words vibrated with such intensity of feeling that Marie-Anne could not resist the impulse to press his hand; and this gesture was his revenge upon Martial, who turned pale with passion.

“But I have still another right,” continued Maurice.  “My father yesterday had the honor of asking of Monsieur Lacheneur the hand of his daughter——­”

“And I refused it!” cried a terrible voice.

Marie-Anne and both young men turned with the same movement of alarm and surprise.

M. Lacheneur stood before them, and by his side was Chanlouineau, who surveyed the group with threatening eyes.

“Yes, I refused it,” resumed M. Lacheneur, “and I do not believe that my daughter will marry anyone without my consent.  What did you promise me this morning, Marie-Anne?  Can it be you, you who grant a rendezvous to gallants in the forest?  Return to the house, instantly——­”

“But father——­”

“Return!” he repeated with an oath; “return, I command you.”

She obeyed and departed, not without giving Maurice a look in which he read a farewell that she believed would be eternal.

As soon as she had gone, perhaps twenty paces, M. Lacheneur, with folded arms, confronted Maurice.

“As for you, Monsieur d’Escorval,” said he, rudely, “I hope that you will no longer undertake to prowl around my daughter——­”

“I swear to you, Monsieur—­”

“Oh, no oaths, if you please.  It is an evil action to endeavor to turn a young girl from her duty, which is obedience.  You have broken forever all relations between your family and mine.”

The poor youth tried to excuse himself, but M. Lacheneur interrupted him.

“Enough! enough!” said he; “go back to your home.”

And as Maurice hesitated, he seized him by the collar and dragged him to the little footpath leading through the grove.

It was the work of scarcely ten seconds, and yet, he found time to whisper in the young man’s ear, in his formerly friendly tones: 

“Go, you little wretch! do you wish to render all my precautions useless?”