consignment of which I was advised this morning."

Rising from his seat, and laying down his glass, he called out:--

"Rose, give me my cane and hat!"

Then, turning towards me, he added, in a lowered tone and speaking very
quickly:--

"As to you--don't forget our conversation. If you think you can make me
say 'yes,' try!--but I don't think you'll succeed. Meanwhile, not a word
to Rose, or, by Saint Barthélemy, my patron of happy memory, I'll
instantly kick you out of doors!"

[Illustration: "AT THAT MOMENT ROSE APPEARED."]

At that moment Rose appeared with my uncle's cane and hat, which she
handed to him. He kissed her on the forehead; then, giving me a last but
eloquent look, hurried from the shop.

I went on scouring my double-handed sword. Rose came quietly towards me.

"What is the matter with my father?" she asked; "he seems to be angry
with you."

I looked at her--her eyes were so black, her look so kind, her mouth so
rosy, and her teeth so white that I told her all--my love, my suit to
her father, and his rough refusal. I could not help it--after all, it
was _his_ fault! He was not there: I determined to brave his anger.
Besides, there is nobody like timid persons for displaying courage under