kneeling before him, and pointing to Maximilian, “I love him, and will be only his; were I compelled to marry another, I would destroy myself.”
The eyes of the paralytic expressed a multitude of tumultuous thoughts.
“You like M. Maximilian Morrel, do you not, grandpapa?” asked Valentine.
“Yes.”
“And you will protect us, who are your children, against the will of my father?”
Noirtier cast an intelligent glance at Morrel, as if to say, “perhaps I may.”
Maximilian understood him.
“Mademoiselle,” said he, “you have a sacred duty to fulfil in your deceased grandmother’s room, will you allow me the honor of a few minutes’ conversation with M. Noirtier?”
“That is it,” said the old man’s eye. Then he looked anxiously at Valentine.
“Do you fear he will