"Really, I was not aware that instances of the kind were so rare, or that your punctilious morality would be so terribly shocked by an every-day occurrence. If the lovely creature herself consents to my proposition, I consider that the arrangement will be a very fair one."
"Consents?" echoed Gaston, lashed into fury. "Do you know of whom you are speaking? This Mademoiselle Melanie is one of the noblest,—that is to say, one of the most noble-minded, and one of the most chaste of women."
"You have heard of her then? Perhaps seen her?" inquired Lord Linden, eagerly. "As for her vaunted chastity, that is neither here nor there,—that may or may not be fictitious. I have heard from the best authority that she receives the private visits of titled admirers, whose attentions can hardly be of a nature very different from mine. You see, it is fair game, and if I succeed"—
"For Heaven's sake stop!" said Gaston, losing all control of his temper. Then reflecting that this very energy in defending her might compromise Madeleine, he said, more calmly, "I beg your lordship to pause before you insult Mademoiselle Melanie. I know something of her history. She bears an unblemished name; she has a highly sensitive, a most delicate and refined nature. Could she deem it possible that any man entertained toward her such sentiments as those to which you have just given utterance, it would almost kill her."
Lord Linden's lips curled sarcastically, but he did not feel disposed to communicate how completely Mademoiselle Melanie was already aware of those sentiments. He now essayed to put an end to the conversation by saying,—
"I shall bear your remarks in mind; though the accounts we have heard of the fair mantua-maker differ materially."
"Who has dared to slander her?" demanded Gaston, with an air which seemed to assert his right to ask the question.
"I have not said that she has been slandered. I see we are not likely to understand each other; let us join the ladies."
As he spoke, he walked toward Lady Augusta and Bertha. His sister rose and made her adieu.
When Lord Linden and Lady Augusta had passed on, Gaston was surprised to see that Bertha did not appear desirous of returning to the hotel. She sat still, and, when he approached her, drew her dress slightly aside, as though to make room for him to resume his seat. Could he do otherwise than comply? She sat with her head bent down. The shining ringlets falling in rich, golden showers, partly concealed her face. She was tracing letters upon the gravel-walk with her parasol. Gaston was too much moved by his painful conversation with Lord Linden to start any indifferent topic; and Bertha's manner, so different from her usual frank, lively bearing, made it still more difficult for him to know how to accost her.