“You do not like him. That is in no way surprising; and he hates you!”
“There is not much love lost between us, I dare say. But how do you know he hates me?”
“I have seen the evil looks he cast upon you. I tell you his hate is of a most deadly and venomous character. Ah! monsieur—my lord, have a care, be warned in time. This young man—this Gerome Chanet—loves my mistress to distraction—he doats upon her. Full well I know this. He would gladly and cheerfully lay down his life for her.”
“Upon my word, Agatha, he is a most chivalrous, self-sacrificing knight errant—that is, assuming your theory to be a correct one.”
“I am not mistaken,” said the girl, with renewed emphasis and force.
“Monsieur Gerome Chanet idolises Mademoiselle Theresa, and madame has promised that she shall become his wife.”
“This may be the case.”
“It is so.”
“Well it is, then, if you will have it so.”
“It is not I would have it, because I do not like him; neither does Theresa.”