[Illustration: "MY UNCLE SAT SMOKING HIS PIPE AND WATCHING ME."]

The next day--ah, the next day!--I was no nearer. In vain, with clenched
teeth, I scoured the immense helmet brought by my uncle the previous
evening--scoured it with such fury as almost to break the iron; not an
idea came to me. The helmet shone like a sun: my uncle sat smoking his
pipe and watching me; but I could think of nothing, of no way of forcing
him to give me his daughter.

At three o'clock Rose went into the country, whence she was not to
return until dinner-time, in the evening. On the threshold she could
only make a sign to me with her hand; my uncle had not left us alone for
a single instant. He was not easy in his mind; I could see that by his
face. No doubt he had not forgotten our conversation of the
previous evening.

I went on rubbing at my helmet.

"You have made it quite bright enough--put it down," said my uncle.

I put it down. The storm was gathering: I could not do better than allow
it to blow over.

But suddenly, as if overtaken by a strange fancy, my uncle took up the
enormous morion and turned and examined it on all sides.

"A handsome piece of armour, there is no doubt about it; but it must
have weighed pretty heavily on its wearer's shoulders," he muttered;
and, urged by I know not what demon, he clapped it on his head and