"Aversion! what do you mean?" asked M. de Brévannes.
"This is a fresh crime of which poor Morville is innocent, I will answer for it," said M. de Gercourt.
"Every body knows that he pretends a most decided aversion for Madame de Hansfeld," replied the domino.
"Morville?"
"Certainly. Although he goes very little into society, yet he now affects to fly from the places where he might be likely to meet the princess. To such a pitch does he carry this, that he is now but very rarely seen at his aunt's, Madame de Lormoy's, no doubt from a dread of meeting Madame de Hansfeld there. Now say, Fierval, you who know Madame de Lormoy, if this be not true?"
"Why, to say the truth, I very seldom meet Morville now at his aunt's."
"Do you hear that?" said the domino, triumphantly, addressing M. de Gercourt; "Morville's antipathy for the princess is remarked upon—people gossip and chatter, and thus the end of this brainless Apollo is attained."
"That is impossible," said M. de Gercourt; "for no one is freer from affectation than Morville, who is one of the most amiable men—the most naturally amiable man that I know; and I will say, that I fully believe, that in his life he never hated, feigned, or lied; indeed, he carries his respect for pledged faith to the utmost extent, even to exaggeration."
"I am decidedly of Gercourt's opinion," said M. de Fierval; "but the fact is, that De Morville, who has been for a long time wretchedly out of spirits, goes very little into society."
"That is easily explained," said one of the auditors of this conversation; "Lady Melford has left these eighteen months, and he has unceasingly regretted her."