His cousin in a low voice gave him a short review of the situation. "Can you keep him here, at least for the night?" he asked in conclusion. "He is scarcely responsible, I think, for his actions."
Prosper's keen, grave gaze ran over the details of costume; of face he could see nothing. "Do you think he is likely to do himself an injury?" he whispered. He too could act quickly on occasions. He went to his cousin. "Armand!" he said, laying a hand on the bowed shoulders, while with the other he successfully plucked from its sheath the jewelled dagger at the young man's hip. This he held out behind his back to Emmanuel, who took and concealed it.
The Comte slowly lifted his head. "What do you want with me?" he asked stupidly. "Are you come to bury her already?"
"Armand," said his cousin, "could you not sleep a little? No one will disturb you here, and in the morning..."
"In the morning she will be dead. They will put my white roses on her coffin. She should not have worn them ... Why are you staring at me like that, Prosper? You had better get back to your candles and things in there ... No, do not say that you will pray for her! She does not want it—no, nor I, by God! I did not come here to be prayed over ... though I suppose you would like to ... Yes, I suppose you would call it the judgment of God. Isn't that so? Answer me, priest—though you are my cousin!"
Monsignor de la Roche-Guyon did not flinch. "I should call it the mercy of God," he said very gently.
An angry flush dyed Armand's pale face. For a second he looked as if he were going to strike Prosper; then he changed his mind, and shrugging his shoulders, he turned away. "Priests will be priests," he said with a sneer. "Come, Emmanuel, I have had my benediction. Let us be going."
"I think it is too late to go back," observed the Marquis quietly. "Prosper will give us hospitality to-night."
His brother gave a short scornful laugh. "So that was why you brought me here! Very well—only for God's sake go away and don't stand staring at me. I don't want a bed. Do you suppose I shall sleep?—Go, you guardians of respectability!"
They left him: there was nothing else to do.