"And it is the ring, then, that I accept," replied Iris, with a smile of deep hypocrisy, "since my condition exposes me to certain remunerations."
"If I chose a diamond," said De Brévannes, "it is because I would present you with an emblem of the endurance and purity of my gratitude."
And he put forth his hand to take the black book.
"No, no!" exclaimed Iris, appearing still to struggle with duty; "it is so horrible, I condemn myself for you."
"What harm is done? it is but an indiscretion at worst, my dear Iris; and, as your mistress is so often unjust towards you, it is, on your part, but a small, allowable, even innocent vengeance."
"Oh! I know I am inexcusable; and when you have once read the book, you will forget poor Iris, when you have no further occasion for her. But why should I complain, have you not paid me for my treachery?" she added, with bitterness.
"This little creature is desperately smitten with me," thought De Brévannes, "and how the devil shall I get rid of her? Can she mean, now she has got the ring, not to let me see the book?"
Then he said aloud, with earnestness,—
"You are mistaken, Iris. In the first place, I shall never think I have repaid my obligation to you: have no fear that I shall ever forget you. I wish, for my own peace of mind, that I could; and it requires all the seriousness of the things on which I have to discourse with your mistress in order to make me for a moment forget my love for you, Iris; for I do love you. But we will not refer to that now. There are serious interests at stake. How is your mistress?"
"She has remained dull and pensive ever since she gave you the appointment which you so imperatively demanded."