"You ask me to pardon you, only that you may read this letter, and I have already told you that no one shall read it but the duchesse."
"Ah! obstinate and stupid that you are," cried the duchess, with a fury mingled with majesty; "do you not recognize me?—or rather, could you not divine that I was the mistress?—and are these the eyes of a servant? I am the Duchesse de Montpensier; give me the letter."
"You are the duchesse!" cried Ernanton, starting back.
"Yes, I am. Give it to me; I want to know what has happened to my brother."
But instead of obeying, as the duchess expected, the young man, recovering from his first surprise, crossed his arms.
"How can I believe you, when you have already lied to me twice?"
The duchess's eyes shot forth fire at these words, but Ernanton stood firm.
"Ah! you doubt still—you want proofs!" cried she, tearing her lace ruffles with rage.
"Yes, madame."
She darted toward the bell, and rang it furiously; a valet appeared.