“Valentine,” said Morrel pushing aside a loose plank, “give me your hand in token of forgiveness of my anger; my senses are confused, and during the last hour the most extravagant thoughts have passed through my brain. Oh, if you refuse my advice⁠—”

“What do you advise?” said Valentine, raising her eyes to heaven and sighing.

“I am free,” replied Maximilian, “and rich enough to support you. I swear to make you my lawful wife before my lips even shall have approached your forehead.”

“You make me tremble!” said the young girl.

“Follow me,” said Morrel; “I will take you to my sister, who is worthy also to be yours. We will embark for Algiers, for England, for America, or, if you prefer it, retire to the country and only return to Paris when our friends have reconciled your family.”

Valentine shook her head.