Upon this, the two young gentlemen took each of the country neighbours by the arm, and drew them away into another room, talking of shooting and travelling. The side door through which they went out, had scarcely closed upon them, when Paul appeared at the principal one. He went into the room he already knew, each corner of which concealed a door—the one led to a library, the other to the room in which he had been shut up on his first visit, awaiting the result of the conference between Marguerite and Emanuel, and then approaching the table, he remained there for a moment, looking attentively at the two doors, as though he had expected to see one of them opened. His hope was not fallacious. In a few moments, that of the library was opened, and he perceived a white form standing within it; he rushed towards it.
“Is it you, Marguerite?” said he.
“Yes,” replied a trembling voice.
“Well?”
“I told him all?”
“And—”
“And in ten minutes the contract is to be signed.”
“I suspected as much—he is a miserable wretch.”
“What’s to be done?” cried the young girl.
“Take courage, Marguerite.”