CHAPTER VIII.
Only those who, in the bright springtime of life, have loved, have been loved in return, and have suddenly seen an impassable gulf open between them and happiness, can realize Maurice d'Escorval's disappointment.
All the dreams of his life, all his future plans, were based upon his love for Marie-Anne.
If this love failed him, the enchanted castle which hope had erected would crumble and fall, burying him in the ruins.
Without Marie-Anne he saw neither aim nor motive in his existence.

Still he did not suffer himself to be deluded by false hopes.

Although at first, his appointed meeting with Marie-Anne on the following day seemed salvation itself, on reflection he was forced to admit that this interview would change nothing, since everything depended upon the will of another party--the will of M.Lacheneur.
The remainder of the day he passed in mournful silence.

The dinner-hour came; he took his seat at the table, but it was impossible for him to swallow a morsel, and he soon requested his parents' permission to withdraw.
M.d'Escorval and the baroness exchanged a sorrowful glance, but did not allow themselves to offer any comment.
They respected his grief.

They knew that his was one of those sorrows which are only aggravated by any attempt at consolation.
"Poor Maurice!" murmured Mme.