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made thus wretched because you will bate nothing of that haughtiness and pride, which Heaven forbids, which reason laughs at, and is, in troth, so foolish.
“ Can you wish to see me linger out a youth of pain and listlessness, instead of being happy in myself, and useful to others. Oh, grant me Emily to wife—there is no action then so great, so grand, or glorious, which seem'th to me above my grasp. Refuse this boon, there is no deed of worth of which I feel me capable. She-she,Emily alone hath power to inspire my heart, and nerve mine arm. Deny her to my prayer; the world will be a blank; myself as nought in it. Oh, my father, my friend,"—he still continued, as he bent his knee upon the earth,“ relent-grant me to have Emily for my bride. Think but of the happiness you will create ;think only of that, and then you must-you will— I'm sure you will relent.”
De Mauny, who, no doubt, thought he evinced an extreme complaisance in listening to this long harangue, had never stirred from the position he assumed at its commencement,
till he ceased to hear his son's voice; when, thinking it incumbent on him to make some sort of answer, he lifted up his head, and gazing at him full in the face, and at the same time stroking his own chin with the greatest apparent selfcomplacency, replied in the following very brief and pithy sentence
“ I'll be d- n'd if I do!"
Napoleon used to say, that " from the sublime to the ridiculous it is but a step;" and nothing could well sound more absurdly to those who were quietly standing by, listening to the conversation, than such an answer to such an appeal. Gaultier felt this as an additional wound to his disappointment. The hopes he had conceived and cherished from the extracted promise,-hopes, which his recent success had strengthened, and which the joy his father manifested on first seeing him return had changed into certitude, were thus, at one blow, crushed, In de Mauny's tone of voice, his countenance and manner of expressing himself, he perceived a fixed and determined resolve of never suffering him again to behold the object of his tenderest affections.
His rage and resentment at feeling himself thus cajoled, exceeded all the bounds of propriety, if not of reason; but—and that, perhaps, for the purpose of luxuriating with greater zest in the revenge he meditated-he made an effort to hide these passions from his father's eye, and lock them within his own bosom. So, regarding him with a mock and affected calmness, he asked :
“Is this, sire, the most gentle answer I may expect from you ?”
“ Ay! perdie, that is it,” replied de Mauny, _“that is it, I can tell thee. Art not ashamed to come miauling here like a sick baby, about this wench, who hath neither name, nor father nor mother to give her one,-no, nor a rag to put upon her back, save what is bestowed on her in charity. Let thee marry her! No, truly, nor even see her,-and yet I wish with all my heart and soul that she were here at this very moment, she, thine Emily as thou callest her, that I might bid my henchmen fling her on the
fire before thine eyes. The jade !-Name her no more, sirrah !—Begone."
In saying this, de Mauny arose, and was leaving the court, but his son took him by the arm and retained him.
“ Again, Seigneur, bethink you,-have you nought more to add ?”
“Not another word!”
“ Certes then, Seigneur,” replied Gaultier coolly—“I am greatly grieved to find that one at your time of life, and your station in't to boot, should thus descend to tell, or rather, perhaps, to act a falsehood; and moreover do I feel ashamed, when I reflect that it is my father who hath done it. Yet so it is, and I now can have nought more to say upon this subject, save that as you have made me break a vow in heaven, I must do my best to make my peace with Heaven." .
Then beckoning to de Laval, who, with the rest, had been standing apart during the conversation,-and who was scarcely,-in spite of his misfortune,-able to refrain from laughter-he said to him:
“Chevalier! you are, I believe, my prisoner ?”
“Alas !" replied de Laval, the fortune of war hath placed me in your power."
“ How like you, Seigneur, this steed of mine? Is't not a fine animal ?”
De Laval looked displeased at the slightness of the question put at such a moment, he imagined, to insult him; and made no reply
“I made bold, Seigneur, to enquire your opinion of this, the destrier, which I crossed to day; you seem not to have heard my question, or courtesy, perchance, doth make you silent, you not deeming well of him.”
“ Sire,” replied the other, who still thought Gaultier intended to affront him," the steed may be the best or the worst in all Flanders for ought I know to the contrary; for never having crossed him, it is not in my power to appreciate his merits."
“ That's very true; so may it please you, try him. Mount, and trot him round the court."
" I know not,” retorted angrily de Laval, "wherefore you thus taunt me; but this I know,