“It will not be long before he returns——”
“Who can say?”
M. de Sairmeuse struck the marble mantel heavily with his clinched fist.
“My God!” he exclaimed; “this is an overwhelming misfortune.”
The young wife believed that he was anxious and angry on her account. But she was mistaken. He was thinking only of his disappointed ambition.
Whatever he might pretend, the duke secretly confessed his son’s superiority and his genius for intrigue, and he was now extremely anxious to consult him.
“He has wrought this evil; it is for him to repair it! And he is capable of it if he chooses,” he murmured.
Then, aloud, he resumed:
“Martial must be found—he must be found——”
With an angry gesture, Blanche interrupted him.