The old man was astounded.
"Who, pray, are you," he said, "that presume to make such a demand ?" "I am the son of a peasant," replied Pierre, bowing, and casting his eyes to the ground, "and you may think it presumption, indeed, for me to aspire to the hand of your noble daughter.

But a peasant's love is as pure as the love of a prince; and a peasant's heart may beat with as high emotions." "Young man," returned the baron, angrily, "your assurance deserves punishment.

But go--never dare cross my threshold again! You ask an impossibility.

When my daughter weds, she will not think of stooping to a presumptuous peasant.

Go, sir!" Pierre retired, overwhelmed with confusion.