his own son should treat his house as a home was so natural to him, that it did not even occur to him now that he could bid him not to enter.  There he was again, creating more trouble; and, as far as our friend the innkeeper could see, likely enough to be successful in his object.  Michel stood his ground, with his hands in his pockets, because he would not even shake hands with his son.  But when George came up, he bowed a recognition with his head; as though he should have said, ’I see you; but I cannot say that you are welcome to Granpere.’  George stood for a moment or two, and then addressed his father.

‘Adrian Urmand is here with you, is he not, father?’

‘He is in the house somewhere,’ said Michel, sullenly.

‘May I speak to him?’

‘I am not his keeper; not his,’ and Michel put a special accent on the last word, by which he implied that though he was not the keeper of Adrian Urmand, he was the keeper of somebody else.  George stood awhile, hesitating, by his father’s side, and as he stood he saw through the window of the billiard-room the figure of Urmand, who was watching them.  ’Your mother is in her own room; you had better go to her,’ said Michel.  Then George entered the hotel, and his father went across the court to seek Urmand in his retreat.  In this way the difficulty of the first meeting was overcome, and George did not find himself turned out of the Lion d’Or.

He knew of course nothing of the state of affairs at the inn.  It might be that Marie had already given way, and was still the promised bride of this man.  Indeed, to him it seemed most probable that such should be the case.  He had been sent to look for Madame Voss, and Madame Voss he found in the kitchen.

‘O, George, who expected to see you here to-day!’ she exclaimed.

‘Nobody, I daresay,’ he replied.  The cook was there, and two or three other servants and hangers-on.  It was impossible that he should speak out before so many persons, and he had not a friend about the place, unless Marie was his friend.  After a few moments he went into the inner room, and Madame Voss followed him.  ‘Well,’ said he, ‘has anything been settled?’

‘I am sorry to say that everything is as unsettled as it can be,’ said Madame Voss.

Then Marie must be true to him!  And if so, she must be the grandest woman, the finest girl that had ever been created.  If so, would he not be true to her?  If so, with what a true worship would he offer her all that he had to give in the world!  He had come there before determined to crush her with his thunderbolt.  Now he would swear to cherish her and keep her warm with his love for ever and ever.  ’Is she here?’ he asked.

‘She is up-stairs, in bed.  You cannot see her.’

‘She is not ill?’

‘She is making everybody else ill about the place, I know that,’ said Madame Voss.  ’And as for you, George, you owe a different kind of treatment to your father; you do indeed.  It will make an old man of him.  He has set his heart upon this, and you ought to have yielded.’