"
"My father," said I, "it is not my will that this evening be our
last; and for peace, I long for it with all my heart."
He frowned, and answered, "You have brought me trouble and
sorrow. Mother of God! was it not possible for you to be as
your sister Georgette? I gave her less love, yet she honours
me more."
"She honours you, my father, by a sweet, good life, and by marriage
into an honourable family, and at your word she gives her hand to
Monsieur Auguste de la Darante. She marries to your pleasure,
therefore she has peace and your love. I marry a man of my own
choosing, a bitterly wronged gentleman, and you treat me as some
wicked thing. Is that like a father who loves his child?"
"The wronged gentleman, as you call him, invaded that which is
the pride of every honest gentleman," he said.
"And what is that?" asked I quietly, though I felt the blood
beating at my temples.
"My family honour, the good name and virtue of my daughter."
I got to my feet, and looked my father in the eyes with an anger
and a coldness that hurts me now when I think of it, and I said, "I
will not let you speak so to me. Friendless though I be, you shall
not. You have the power to oppress me, but you shall not slander me
to my face. Can not you leave insults to my enemies?"
"I will never leave you to the insults of this mock marriage,"
answered he, angrily also.
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