Somebody touched his shoulder slightly; and, as he turned round, he found it was Maxime, who said with friendly irony,—
“Your old friend, is it not? The happy lover of Miss Brandon?”
“Yes, it is so. I have to confess it.”
He was just in the act of explaining the reasons for his silence, when M. de Brevan interrupted him, saying,—
“Just look, Daniel; just look!”
The count had taken a seat in the front part of the box, by Miss Brandon’s side, and was talking to her with studied affectation, bending over her, gesticulating violently, and laughing till he showed every one of the long yellow teeth which were left him. He was evidently on exhibition, and desired to be seen by everybody. Suddenly, however, after Miss Brandon had said a few words to him, he rose, and went out.
The bell behind the scenes was ringing, and the curtain was about to rise again.
“Let us go,” said Daniel to M. de Brevan: “I am suffering.”
He was really suffering, mortified by the ridiculous scene which Henrietta’s father was playing. But he entertained no longer any doubts; he had clearly seen how the adventuress was spurring on the old man, and fanning his feeble flame.
“Ah! it will be hard work to rescue the count from the wiles of this witch,” said Maxime.