The young duke's face was extremely pale and agitated. In fact, he seemed a prey to the deepest anxiety and distress.
"So you will see her, my dear Olivier," he was saying to his friend.
"At once. I wrote to her last evening requesting an interview. She has not answered my note, so she consents."
"Then in an hour my fate will be decided," groaned Gerald.
"I am forced to admit that I think this a very serious matter," said Olivier. "You know, even better than I do, how proud this young girl is, and that which would be our greatest chance of success with any one else will be almost sure to have an exactly opposite effect in her case. Still, we will not despair."
"But, Olivier, if I should be obliged to give her up, I don't know how I could bear it!" exclaimed Gerald, hoarsely. "I should kill myself, I believe!"
"Gerald! Gerald!"
"Yes, I admit it. I love her to distraction. I never believed before that even the most impassioned love could attain such a degree of intensity. My love is a consuming fever,—a fixed idea that absorbs me utterly. You know Herminie—"
"Yes, and I know that a more noble and beautiful creature never lived."
"Olivier, I am the most miserable of men!" exclaimed Gerald, burying his face in his hands.