“Oh, madame!”
“It would have been but just, monsieur; you did me a great service, and I have not thanked you. Pardon me, and receive all my thanks.”
“Madame——” Bussy stopped; he felt so overcome, that he had neither words nor ideas.
“But I wished to prove to you,” continued Diana, “that I am not ungrateful, nor forgetful. It was I who begged M. Rémy to procure for me the honor of this interview; it was I who sought for it, forgive me if I have displeased you.”
“Oh, madame! you cannot think that.”
“I know,” continued Diana, who was the strongest, because she had prepared herself for this interview, “how much trouble you had in fulfilling my commission; I know all your delicacy; I know it and appreciate it, believe me. Judge, then, what I must have suffered from the idea that you would misunderstand the sentiments of my heart.”
“Madame, I have been ill for three days.”
“Oh! I know,” cried Diana, with a rising color, “and I suffered more than you, for M. Rémy, he deceived me, no doubt; for he made me believe——”
“That your forgetfulness caused it. Oh! it is true.”
“Then I have been right to do as I have done; to see you, to thank you for your kindness, and to swear to you an eternal gratitude. Do you believe that I speak from the bottom of my heart?”