Maurice Roger had only paid the Gerards a few visits during the father's lifetime, and accompanied on each occasion by Amedee.

He had always observed the most respectful manner toward Maria, and they had perhaps exchanged twenty words.

Why should Maria preserve such a particular remembrance of a person so nearly a stranger to her?
Was it possible that he had made a deep impression, perhaps even inspired a sentiment of love?
Did she conceal in the depths of her heart, when she thought of him, a tender hope?
Was she watching for him?
Did she wish him to return?
When these fears crossed Amedee's mind, he felt a choking sensation, and his heart was troubled.

Happy Maurice, who had only to be seen to please! But immediately, with a blush of shame, the generous poet chased away this jealous fancy.

But every Sunday, when Maria, lowering her eyes, and with a slightly embarrassed voice, repeated her question, "Have you received any news from Monsieur Maurice ?" Amedee felt a cruelly discouraged feeling, and thought, with deep sadness: "She never will love me!" To conquer this new grief, he plunged still more deeply into work; but he did not find his former animation and energy.