“What! She has written to you?”
“Yes; it is that accursed letter, more than any thing else, that brings me here. Here it is, just read it; and, if you can understand it, you are more fortunate than I am.”
At one glance M. de Brevan had read the five lines which Miss Brandon had written; and, turning deadly pale, he said,—
“This is incomprehensible. A note, and such an indiscreet note, from her who never writes!”
He looked upon Daniel as if he wished to penetrate his innermost thoughts, and then asked him, weighing his words with the utmost care,—
“If she should really love you, what would you say?”
Daniel looked disgusted. He replied,—“It is hardly generous in you to make sport of me, Maxime. I may be a fool; but I am not an idiot, to be conceited to that degree.”
“That is no answer to my question,” said Brevan; “and I repeat my question. What would you say?”
“I would say that I execrate her!”
“Oh! if you hate her so bitterly, you are very near loving her.”