“Great God!” said Daniel, “send me some inspiration.”
But no inspiration came; and in vain did he torture his mind; he was unable to think.
When he reached home, he went to bed as usual; but the consciousness of his misfortunes kept him awake. At nine o’clock in the morning, having never closed his eyes, and feeling utterly overcome by sleeplessness and fatigue, he was just about to get up, when some one knocked at his door. He rose hastily, put on his clothes, and went to open the door. It was M. de Brevan, who came to hear all about his new acquaintance of last night, and whose first word was,—
“Well?”
“Alas!” replied Daniel, “I think the wisest plan would be to give it up.”
“Upon my word, you are in great haste to surrender.”
“And what would you do in my place, eh? That woman has beauty enough to drive any one mad; and the count is a lost man.”
And, before Maxime had time to reply, Daniel told him simply and frankly all about his love for Miss Ville-Handry, the hopes he had been encouraged to cherish, and the dangers that threatened his happiness in life.
“For I can no longer deceive myself, Maxime,” he concluded with a tone of utter despair. “I foresee, I know, what is going to happen. Henrietta will obstinately, and at any risk, do every thing in the world to prevent her father’s marriage with Miss Brandon; she will struggle to the bitter end. Ought I, or ought I not, to help her? Certainly. Can we succeed? No! But we shall have a mortal enemy in Miss Brandon; and, on the morning after her wedding, her first thought will be how to avenge herself, and how to separate Henrietta and myself forever.”
Little as Brevan was generally given to show his feelings, he was evidently deeply touched by his friend’s despair.