"Madame, I scorn falsehood, there does exist a secret of vital importance."
"I was not deceived," cried Madame de Hansfeld, interrupting M. de Morville; "you do possess the secret which I believed known but to two persons, one I thought dead, the other had good cause for secrecy, for his own honour was affected by it. It was for this reason that I requested this appointment, as I could not see you at my own house, and I never meet you in society. I care but little for the opinion you have formed of me after the revelation that has been made you. Your studied aversion shews me that it is horrible: be it so, Heaven is my judge. But enough of this. You are not aware, monsieur, perhaps, of the terrible importance of the secret that chance or treachery has placed in your hands. Osorio—is he not then dead? Is it really true that he did not perish at Alexandria, as was generally believed? For mercy's sake, monsieur, answer me. If that were the case, much would be explained to me."
"Osorio! I never heard the name uttered, madame."
"It was M. de Brévannes, then?" cried the princess, involuntarily.
M. de Morville regarded Madame de Hansfeld with increasing surprise; for the last few minutes he could not comprehend her meaning.
"I scarcely know M. de Brévannes, madame, and I am ignorant if he be now in Paris."
For the first time during this interview Madame de Hansfeld's real or assumed composure forsook her, she rose hastily, and her pale face became crimson as she exclaimed,—
"There is no one living except Osorio or M. de Brévannes who could have told you what passed three years ago at Venice on the night of the 13th of April."
"Three years ago?—at Venice?—the 13th of April?" repeated M. de Morville, more and more surprised; "I assure you, madame, it is not that I allude to. Not a word more on that head. I would not, for the world, surprise your confidence. Again, madame, I assure you the reason that forces me to fly you has nought to do with the names or dates, you have mentioned. This motive has not for a moment altered my sincere respect, my admiration, for your character. In avoiding you, madame, I fulfil a promise—a sacred duty."
"Oh, Heaven! what have I said?" cried Madame de Hansfeld, covering her face with her hands, and thinking of the half confession she had involuntarily made to M. de Morville. "No, no, this cannot be a snare to entrap me."