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 growing desire to confront a man so redoubtable. Let's see! what shall we fight with? Those two double-handed swords standing by the fireplace? Or those two boarding axes? With cavalry sabres, or would you prefer a pair of curved yatagans? You hesitate: can't you make up your mind?"

"I am thinking of your mother and her coming distress."

"I haven't a mother to be distressed. Would you rather fight with a carbine?—pistol?—or revolver?"

"Young man—don't play with firearms."

"Are you afraid? You are trembling! "

"Trembling! I? It's with cold."

"Then fight, or at once renounce the hand of Nicette."

"Renounce the hand of Mademoiselle Nicette! By Jove, I admire your bravery! and brave men are made to understand one another. Shall I make a confession to you?"

"Speak! "

"For some time past I have myself had thoughts of breaking off this marriage, but I did not know how to do it. I consent, therefore, with pleasure to do what you wish; but, at the same time you must see that I cannot appear to give way to threats, and you have threatened me."

"I retract them."

"In that case, all is understood."

"You will give me, in writing, your renunciation?"

"Young man, you have so completely won my sympathy that I can refuse you nothing."

Furnished with the precious document, Anatole flew back to the dwelling-place of Monsieur Bouvard: he had a considerable distance to walk, and by the time he reached the professor's door it was nearly eight o'clock in the morning.

"Who is there?"

"Anatole."

"Go home, and go to bed!" cried the professor savagely.

"I have got Capdenac's renunciation of Nicette's hand! Open the door, or I will break it down."

Monsieur Bouvard admitted him, and Anatole placed in his hand the momentous paper. That done, he rushed to the door of Nicette's room and cried—

"Cousin, get up—dress yourself quickly and come here!"

"It appears, Monsieur, that I am no longer master in my own home!" exclaimed Monsieur Bouvard; "you go and come, and order as you please! To make you understand that I will have nothing more to say to you, I—I will go back to my morning newspaper, in the reading of which you have interrupted me!"

A few minutes later, Nicette, looking fresh as dawn, arrived in the drawing-room.

"What is the matter?"

"The matter," said Monsieur Bouvard, "is that your cousin is mad!"

"Mad? So be it!" replied Anatole. "Last night, my dear little cousin, I obtained two things: the renunciation of your hand by Monsieur Capdenac, and the promise of your worthy guardian to bestow it on the man of your choice—the man you love."

"Do you really wish me to marry Anatole, guardian?