her, and they touched each other's hand; but Marie said never a
word. The frown on Michel's brow was very black, but Marie went on
dispensing her soup.



CHAPTER VII.

Adrian Urmand, in spite of his white hands and his well-combed locks
and the silk lining to his coat, had so much of the spirit of a man
that he was minded to hold his head well up before the girl whom he
wished to make his wife. Michel during that drive from Remiremont
had told him that he might probably prevail. Michel had said a
thousand things in favour of his niece and not a word to her
prejudice; but he had so spoken, or had endeavoured so to speak, as
to make Urmand understand that Marie could only be won with
difficulty, and that she was perhaps unaccountably averse to the
idea of matrimony. 'She is like a young filly, you know, that
starts and plunges when she is touched,' he had said. 'You think
there is nobody else?' Urmand had asked. Then Michel Voss had
answered with confidence, 'I am sure there is nobody else.' Urmand
had listened and said very little; but when at supper he saw that
the uncle was ruffled in his temper and sat silent with a black
brow, that Madame Voss was troubled in spirit, and that Marie
dispensed her soup without vouchsafing a look to any one, he felt
that it behoved him to do his best, and he did it. He talked freely
to Madame Voss, telling her the news from Basle,--how at length he
thought the French trade was reviving, and how all the Swiss
authorities were still opposed to the German occupation of Alsace;
and how flax was likely to be dearer than ever he had seen it; and