"Marvelous! oh, she comprehends a half word," said Croustillac to himself; then aloud, "And why, then, should our interview be private? Have you something you desire to hide from your best beloved—from the lover of your choice?"
"But if I desire to beg your forgiveness, sir?"
"You can do so before your accomplice. The more you accuse yourself, the more you depict your conduct as disloyal, infamous, unworthy, the more you affirm the lowness of your choice. This will be your punishment and this scoundrel's also."
"But, my lord?"
"That is my ultimatum," replied Croustillac.
"Do you not fear the despair of this man?" said De Chemerant in a low tone.
"No; traitors are always cowards. Behold this one—what a gloomy, downcast air. He does not dare as much as lift his eyes to me. In any case, sir, send, I beg, some men of yours to the gallery outside, instructed to enter at my first signal." Then, turning with an air of reconsidering, and desiring to make a master stroke, Croustillac said, "In fact, if you will be present at this interview, Monsieur De Chemerant, the punishment of this guilty couple will be complete."
"Oh, sir, in pity do not condemn me to such a depth of shame and humiliation," cried Angela, in despairing tones. "And you, sir, have the generosity not to consent to this," she said to De Chemerant.
Monsieur De Chemerant had the delicacy to excuse himself to the Gascon; he left the room, and left Monmouth, Angela, and the adventurer together.
The envoy had hardly left the room before Monmouth, after assuring himself that he could not be overheard, held out his hand cordially to Croustillac, and said to him, feelingly, "Sir, you are a man of spirit, courage, and resolution; accept our thanks, and pardon us for having suspected you even for a moment."