“I await your reply before acting.
“Martial de Sairmeuse.”
Marie-Anne’s head whirled.
This was the second time that Martial had astonished her by the grandeur of his passion.
How noble the two men who had loved her and whom she had rejected, had proved themselves to be.
One, Chanlouineau, after dying for her sake, protected her still.
Martial de Sairmeuse had sacrificed the convictions of his life and the prejudice of his race for her sake; and, with a noble recklessness, hazarded for her the political fortunes of his house.
And yet the man whom she had chosen, the father of her child, Maurice d’Escorval, had not given a sign of life since he quitted her, five months before.
But suddenly, and without reason, Marie-Anne passed from the most profound admiration to the deepest distrust.
“What if Martial’s offer is only a trap?” This was the suspicion that darted through her mind.