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?‰mile, 1836-1873

"The Honor of the Name"

Sometimes he seemed to be
trying the thickness of the carpet with the toe of his boot; sometimes
he threw himself upon a sofa or a chair, as if to test its softness.
Occasionally, he paused abruptly before some one of the valuable
pictures that covered the walls, or before a bronze. One might have
supposed that he was taking an inventory, and appraising all the
magnificent and costly articles which decorated this apartment, the most
sumptuous in the chateau.
"And I must renounce all this!" he exclaimed, at last.
These words explained everything.
"No, never!" he resumed, in a transport of rage; "never! never! I
cannot! I will not!"
Now Marie-Anne understood it all. But what was passing in her father's
mind? She wished to know; and, leaving the low chair in which she had
been seated, she went to her father's side.
"Are you ill, father?" she asked, in her sweet voice; "what is the
matter? What do you fear? Why do you not confide in me?--Am I not your
daughter? Do you no longer love me?"
At the sound of this dear voice, M.


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