“I scarcely know,” said Raoul, inattentively, and sighing deeply at the same time.
“What! you do not know?”
“Forgive me,” said Raoul, shaking his head, and collecting his thoughts, “I did not hear you.”
“Oh!” said the young girl, sighing in her turn, “how wrong the duke was to send me here!”
“Wrong!” said Raoul, “perhaps so; for I am but a rude, uncouth companion, and my society annoys you. The duke did, indeed, very wrong to send you.”
“It is precisely,” replied Mary Grafton, in a clear, calm voice, “because your society does not annoy me, that the duke was wrong to send me to you.”
It was now Raoul’s turn to blush. “But,” he resumed, “how happens it that the Duke of Buckingham should send you to me; and why did you come? the duke loves you, and you love him.”
“No,” replied Mary, seriously, “the duke does not love me, because he is in love with the Duchesse d’Orleans; and, as for myself, I have no affection for the duke.”
Raoul looked at the young lady with astonishment.
“Are you a friend of the Duke of Buckingham?” she inquired.