“What do you mean?”
“If you know anything, why conceal it from me? If you do not know anything, why did you write so warningly?”
“True, true, I was very wrong, and I regret having done so, Raoul. It seems nothing to write to a friend and say ‘Come;’ but to have this friend face to face, to feel him tremble, and breathlessly and anxiously wait to hear what one hardly dare tell him, is very difficult.”
“Dare! I have courage enough, if you have not,” exclaimed Raoul, in despair.
“See how unjust you are, and how soon you forget you have to do with a poor wounded fellow such as your unhappy friend is. So, calm yourself, Raoul. I said to you, ‘Come’—you are here, so ask me nothing further.”
“Your object in telling me to come was your hope that I should see with my own eyes, was it not? Nay, do not hesitate, for I have seen all.”
“Oh!” exclaimed De Guiche.
“Or at least I thought—”
“There, now, you see you are not sure. But if you have any doubt, my poor friend, what remains for me to do?”
“I saw Louise much agitated—Montalais in a state of bewilderment—the king—”