"Mademoiselle Crystal!" murmured Victor softly.
And he made a step forward so that now she could not move toward the carriage without brushing against him. But she made no reply.
"Mademoiselle Crystal," he said again, "have you not one single kind word for me?"
"A kind word?" she retorted almost involuntarily, "after such an outrage?"
"I am a soldier," he urged, "and had to do my duty."
"You were a soldier once, M. de Marmont—a soldier of the King. Now you are only a deserter."
"A soldier of the Emperor, Mademoiselle, of the man who led France to victory and to glory, and will do so again, now that he has come back into his own once more."
"You and I, M. de Marmont," she said coldly, "look at France from different points of view. This is neither the hour nor the place to discuss our respective sentiments. I pray you, allow me to join my aunt in the carriage. I am cold and tired, and she will be anxious for me."
"Will you at least give me one word of encouragement, Mademoiselle?" he urged. "As you say, our points of view are very different. But I am on the high road to fortune. The Emperor is back in France, the army flocks to his eagles as one man. He trusts me and I shall rise to greatness under his wing. Mademoiselle Crystal, you promised me your hand, I have not released you from that promise yet. I will come and claim it soon."
"Excitement seems to have turned your brain, M. de Marmont," was all that Crystal said, and she walked straight past him to the carriage door.