Count Tristan ground his teeth, and cast upon Madeleine a glance of fury and menacing detestation. Their eyes met, and she returned the look with an expression which simply declared she recognized what was passing in his mind.
"You did right to decline: I should never have permitted you to accept," remarked the countess, in a somewhat softer tone.
She deemed it politic to conciliate Madeleine for the present, fearing that she might be driven to take some humiliating step which would cast a reflection upon her kindred.
"I regret that my son has acted hastily. If you conduct yourself with the propriety which I have the right to demand, you will still find a home in the Château de Gramont, and in myself the mother I have ever been to you."
"Mother!" at that word Madeleine's glacial composure melted. "A mother!—oh, my aunt, thank you for that word! You do not know how much good it does me to hear it from your lips! But the Château de Gramont can never more be my home. That is settled: I came to tell you so."
"What do you mean?" asked the count, with a gleam of ill-disguised satisfaction.
"I mean that I purpose shortly to quit this mansion, never to return!"
"Then you do intend to accompany Lady Vivian to Scotland?" he inquired.
"You—my niece—a de Gramont—become the humble companion of Lady Vivian!" exclaimed the countess, in wrathful astonishment. "Can you even contemplate such an alternative?"