"It was I," he said; "I did the whole wrong, if it was wrong. Do not let madame her mother be angry with her. But for God's sake do not make her marry Ratoneau. She is timid, she is delicate—ah, monsieur—and we are cousins, after all—"
There was a break in his voice, and the Comte almost smiled.
"You are a pair of very absurd and troublesome children," he said, much more kindly. "But you are old enough to know better; it is ignorance of the world to think that lives can be arranged to suit private inclinations. I could not give you my daughter, even if I wished it; you ought to see, as your father would, that you are not in a position to expect such a wife. You are not even on my side in politics, though you very well might be. If you were in the army, with even the prospect of distinguishing yourself like General Ratoneau—and why not even now—"
It was a tremendous temptation, but only for a moment. Angelot thought of his mother and of his uncle Joseph.
"I cannot go into the army," he said quickly.
"No—you are a Chouan at heart, I know," said Hervé.
He added presently, as the young man stood silent and doubtful before him—"You will give me your word of honour, Angelot, that there is no more of this—that you do not attempt to see my daughter again."
Angelot answered him, after a moment's pause, "I warn you that I shall break my word, if I hear more of Ratoneau."
"The devil take Ratoneau!" replied his cousin. "You will give me your word, and I will give you mine. I will never consent to such a marriage as that for Hélène. Are you satisfied now?"
"You give me life and hope," said Angelot.