"She thinks of nothing but me," he thought; "there is nothing to fear from her indiscretion."
He locked the book again, and handed it to the young girl, saying to her,—
"You have, without knowing it, done a most material service to your mistress."
"You love her?" asked Iris abruptly, and casting a piercing glance at him.
"I!" said De Brévannes, with the most careless air in the world; "a singular proof of love, truly, to cruelly menace the woman one loves! No, no, I have no love for her; nothing but the most intense friendship could make a man have recourse to such extremities."
"I must believe you," said Iris sorrowfully, as she took the book from him.
"Adieu, Iris, until to-morrow," said M. de Brévannes; "you will remind Madame de Hansfeld of the interview she has promised me."
"She will not fail; but, now I reflect, in Heaven's name, let nothing give her a suspicion that you have read this book, or I am lost!"
"Make yourself easy, my dear Iris; I will be as far from knowing that as her most secret thoughts: nothing shall betray my knowledge of it; only promise to bring me this book once more, as it will be of the utmost importance that I should again peruse it after the interview I am to have with your mistress to-morrow. Promise me this."
"What! do wrong again?—again abuse her confidence? Ah! now I have no right to complain other injustice to me."