"I must not promise to see you again; for why should I? I see but too plainly that you are only making use of me as a medium of correspondence between yourself and the princess. But what right have I to complain? Have not the unhappy ever been sacrificed to the happy, the rich, and the prosperous of this world?"
The almost imperceptible tone of bitterness with which Iris uttered these last words made M. de Brévannes start, and afresh idea found admission into his thoughts. What was more natural than that the humble dependant looked with eyes of jealousy upon her more fortunate mistress, and loathed each day more and more the hireling service she was called upon to pay?
Spite of the cunning and experience possessed by persons of the class to which M. de Brévannes belonged, they are almost invariably dupes of their own misplaced contempt for mankind in general, and their proneness to believe at all times rather in the bad than good inclinations of those with whom they have to deal; instead, therefore, of considering the mulatto as devoted to her mistress, and consequently observing a necessary degree of reserve, a single word, nay a mere inflection of the voice sufficed to impress M. de Brévannes with the idea that Iris envied the superior advantages possessed by her mistress, and might very probably be easily brought to act in direct hostility against her; and he the more readily adopted this hypothesis, as it chanced to accord perfectly with his own projects. It was of paramount importance to him to have about Madame de Hansfeld a person wholly devoted to himself, who would be restrained by no scruple or prevented by no tie of gratitude, from executing whatever orders he might give, or assisting in any scheme he might devise. Anxious, however, to be well assured of the reality of his surmise, he said to Iris, in a feigned tone of the tenderest interest,—
"You are happy—quite happy in your present situation; are you not, my dear girl?"
The mulatto was as skilful a tactician as himself, and perfectly comprehended the import of a question she had so adroitly managed to elicit; she made no reply at first, but sighed heavily, then, after a prolonged pause, said,—
"Oh yes, very happy indeed! And even if I were not, what good would it do me to complain?"
Then abruptly disengaging herself from M. de Brévannes, she hastily ran towards the little side-gate, which had remained half open all the time they had been talking.
Astonished at this sudden flight, M. de Brévannes followed her, saying,—
"But, at least, do not leave me without fixing when I shall see you again?"
"I know not," replied she.