Daniel! the countess said so; said familiarly, Daniel! Had she any right to do so? How? Whence this extraordinary impudence?
Still Henrietta saw in it only a new insult; no suspicion entered her soul, and she replied in the most ironical tone,—
“Then it was not you who sent that petition to the secretary of the navy? It was not you who ordered and paid for that forged document which caused M. Champcey to be ordered abroad?”
“No; and I told him so myself, the day before he left, in his own room.”
Henrietta was stunned. What? This woman had gone to see Daniel? Was this true? It was not even plausible.
“In his room?” she repeated,—“in his room?”
“Why, yes, in University Street. I foresaw that trick which I could not prevent, and I wished to prevent it. I had a thousand reasons for wishing ardently that he should remain in Paris.”
“A thousand reasons? You? Tell me only one!”
The countess courtesied, as if excusing herself for being forced to tell the truth against her inclination, and added simply,—
“I love him!”