“Because I would not have it. She knows nothing. It has been agreed upon that the name of the Countess Claudieuse is not to be mentioned in her presence; and I wanted to speak to you about that abominable woman. Jacques, my poor child, where has that unlucky passion brought you!”
He made no reply.
“Did you love her?” asked the marchioness.
“I thought I did.”
“And she?”
“Oh, she! God alone knows the secret of that strange heart.”
“There is nothing to hope from her, then, no pity, no remorse?”
“Nothing. I have given her up. She has had her revenge. She had forewarned me.”
The marchioness sighed.
“I thought so,” she said. “Last Sunday, when I knew as yet of nothing, I happened to be close to her at church, and unconsciously admired her profound devotion, the purity of her eye, and the nobility of her manner. Yesterday, when I heard the truth, I shuddered. I felt how formidable a woman must be who can affect such calmness at a time when her lover lies in prison accused of the crime which she has committed.”