"M. Olivier," she said, "I am going to say something that may seem utterly senseless to you. A moment ago, before you had told me all, a terrible suspicion that Gerald had concealed his real name because he had been guilty of some wrong doing occurred to me—"
"What, you could believe that?"
"Yes, I did believe that, but I do not know but the truth you have told me concerning Gerald's position causes me deeper sorrow than that I experienced when I thought Gerald might be a dishonoured man."
"Impossible, mademoiselle, impossible!"
"This seems to you as absurd as it does senseless, does it not?" asked the young girl, bitterly.
"It does indeed."
"But in that case, by the power of my love, I might hope to raise him from his slough of despond, to restore his self-respect, to rehabilitate him in my eyes, and in his own; but between me and M. le Duc de Senneterre there is now an unfathomable abyss."
"Oh, reassure yourself on that point," hastily exclaimed Olivier, hoping to cure the wound he had inflicted and to change his companion's grief to joy. "You really need have no fears on that score, Mlle. Herminie. I was deputised to inform you of Gerald's deception, but, thank Heaven! I am also authorised to tell you that he intends to atone for his fault and in the most satisfactory manner. Gerald may have deceived you in some matters, but he has never deceived you as to the sincerity of his sentiments. They are now what they have always been; his determination does not waver in the least. To-day, as yesterday, Gerald has only one desire, one hope,—that you will consent to bear his name, only to-day his name is that of the Duc de Senneterre. That is all."
"That is all!" exclaimed Herminie, whose deep despondency seemed to have given place to a sorrowful indignation. "That is all, you say, monsieur? So it is nothing to have won my affection under false pretences—to have reduced me to the trying necessity of renouncing a love which was the hope and blessing of my life or of entering a family that will regard me with aversion and disdain! And you call this nothing, monsieur! Ah, your friend pretends to love me, and yet respects me so little as to believe that I will ever submit to the countless humiliations such a marriage is sure to bring upon me!"
"But, Mlle. Herminie—"