with me: you know that this is life and death to me, and you hesitate and toy as if with the choice of a ribbon."
"But you see, François," retorted the young girl with vivacity, "if it is life or death to you, so it is to me; and I can't tell, all in a minute, which is life and which is death. If it were a ribbon it wouldn't matter: but it's the court and the king, and all the gay, beautiful life there, with Gaston, whom I don't love; or it's this stupid old château, and poverty, and disgrace, and rust and mould, with you, whom I am fond of, no doubt, and yet"—
"And yet not enough fond of to choose instead of the court and the king and Gaston," suggested François.
"That's the very question," replied Valerie naively. "And I'm really afraid, that, whichever I choose, I shall spend all the rest of my life regretting the other."
"Then by all means, mademoiselle," began the baron in a rage; but was interrupted by a loud and mocking voice from below:—
"What, what! A robber! An assassin! Thieves! Murderers! An attack upon the château!"
And with a well-directed kick the vicomte drove the fruit-ladder from its position, and brought it with its burden to the ground. François, considerably hurt by the fall, but a good deal more humiliated than hurt, jumped up with a furious exclamation, and, seizing his brother by the throat, bore him to the ground.
"Oh, it is you, you wretched animal!" gasped the vicomte, no match for his brawny brother in any
