‘Camille!’ exclaimed the Marchioness eagerly. And then, as if aware she had been indiscreet, she closed her lips forcibly together, and remained silent.
‘Yes—Camille,’ replied Desgrais, quickly catching at the name. ‘Did you think he had deserted you?’
And he looked cautiously round the parlour, and then placed his finger on his mouth, as though he was fearful of being overheard.
‘I did not know in what quarter of the town he lived,’ she answered.
‘So,’ thought Desgrais, ‘he is in Liége, then.’
‘And besides,’ she went on, ‘circumstances are changed. He cares no more for me.’
‘Would you see him?’ asked Desgrais.
The vanity of the woman triumphed over her caution. Camille Theria, it was evident to Marie, had found his old attachment revive as they had met again. He had forgotten his fiancée, and was anxious again to see her.
‘Am I to believe you?’ she asked.
‘You may believe your eyes,’ replied the exempt. ‘He will be at the tavern of the “Trois Rois” at curfew time to-night.’