’But I do say it.  She has disgraced herself.  Did she not give me her troth, when all the time she intended to marry another man?’

’No!  She did nothing of the kind.  And look here, my friend, if you wish to be treated like a man in this house, you had better not say anything against any of the women who live in it.  You may abuse me as much as you please,—­and George too, if it will do you any good.  There have been mistakes made, and we owe you something.’

‘By heavens, yes; you do.’

’But you sha’n’t take it out in saying anything against Marie Bromar,—­not in my hearing.’

‘Why;—­what will you do?’

’Don’t drive me to do anything, M. Urmand.  If there is any compensation possible—­’

‘Of course there must be compensation.’

‘What is it you will take?  Is it money?’

‘Money;—­no.  As for money, I’m better off than any of you.’

‘What is it, then?  You don’t want the girl herself?’

’No;—­certainly not.  I would not take her if she came and knelt to me.’

‘What can we do, then?  If you will only say.’

’I want—­I want—­I don’t know what I want.  I have been cruelly ill-used, and made a fool of before everybody.  I never heard of such a case before;—­never.  And I have been so generous and honest to you!  I did not ask for a franc of dot; and now you come and offer me money.  I don’t think any man ever was so badly used anywhere.’  And on saying this Adrian Urmand in very truth burst into tears.

The innkeeper’s heart was melted at once.  It was all so true!  Between them they had treated him very badly.  But then there had been so many unfortunate and unavoidable mistakes!  When the young man talked of compensation, what was Michel Voss to think?  His son had been led into exactly the same error.  Nevertheless, he repented himself bitterly in that he had said anything about money, and was prepared to make the most abject apologies.  Adrian Urmand had fallen into a chair, and Michel Voss came and seated himself close beside him.

’I beg your pardon, Urmand; I do indeed.  I ought not to have mentioned money.  But when you spoke of compensation—­’

‘It wasn’t that.  It wasn’t that.  It’s my feelings!’

Then the white cambric handkerchief was taken out and used with considerable vehemence.

From that moment the innkeeper’s goodwill towards Urmand returned, though of course he was quite aware that there was no place for him in that family.

‘If there is anything I can do, I will do it,’ said Michel piteously.  ’It has been unfortunate.  I know it has been very unfortunate.  But we didn’t mean to be untrue.’

‘If you had only left me alone when I was at home?’ said the unfortunate young man, who was still sobbing bitterly.