Gaston had risen and opened the door for her to pass, with as much self-possession as though bashfulness had not been the tormenting evil genius of his existence. His look reassured her, and, without finishing her sentence, she disappeared.
The countess rose with even more than her wonted stateliness, and was about to follow her niece; but M. de Bois, pretending not to perceive her intention, closed the door and said,—
"There is a communication which I desire to have the honor of making to Madame de Gramont and Count Tristan."
"You can make no communication to which I feel disposed to listen," answered the countess haughtily, and advancing toward the door.
"I regret to hear the aunt of Mademoiselle de Merrivale say so, as I have this morning ventured to solicit the hand of that young lady in marriage, and have received a favorable answer to my suit, as well as permission to request the approval of her relatives."
The countess sank into the nearest chair. She knew that her consent was a mere form, and that Bertha could dispose of her hand in freedom.
Count Tristan, still speaking in a confused, incoherent manner, exclaimed,—
"Bless my soul! How astonishing! The game's up, and Maurice has lost his chance! Bertha's fortune is to go out of the family! It's very puzzling. How did it all come about? De Bois, you sly fellow, you lucky dog, I never suspected you. Managed matters quietly, eh? Should never have thought you were the man to succeed with a pretty girl."
"Really," returned Gaston good-humoredly, "I am almost as astonished as you are by Mademoiselle de Merrivale's preference. Let me hope that the Countess de Gramont and yourself will render my happiness complete by approving of Mademoiselle Bertha's choice."
"Of course, of course; there's nothing else to be done; we have lost our trump card, but there's no use of confessing it! Very glad to welcome you as a relative, sir; very happy indeed; everything shall be as Mademoiselle de Merrivale desires."