"Oh! do not laugh!" said Claire; "my dear love, your gayety distresses me. Do not laugh, I implore you! I have had such difficulty in procuring admission,—if you knew!—and I was so near not being able to come at all! Except, for Lenet, the best of men—But let us talk of yourself, my poor dear. Mon Dieu / it is really you, is it not? It is really you whom I can press to my heart again?"
"Why, yes, it is I, it is really I," said Canolles, smiling.
"Oh! do not affect this cheerful demeanor,—it is useless, I know all. They did not know that I loved you, so they hid nothing from me—"
"What is it that you know, pray?" queried Canolles.
"You expected me, didn't you?" the viscountess continued. "You were displeased by my silence? Were you not already blaming me?"
"Unhappy and dissatisfied I was, beyond question, but I did not blame you. I suspected that circumstances stronger than your will kept you from my side; and the main cause of my unhappiness, through it all, has been the necessary postponement of our marriage for a week,—perhaps for two weeks."
Claire stared at Canolles in like amazement to that exhibited by the officer a moment before.
"Are you speaking seriously?" said she; "are you not really any more alarmed than you seem to be?"
"Alarmed?" said Canolles, "alarmed at what? Can it be," he added with a laugh, "that I am exposed to some danger of which I know nothing?"
"Oh! the poor fellow!" cried Claire; "he knew nothing of it!"