"Let me entreat your pardon for the unintentional mistake I have made. Oh, refuse not to forgive me for having ventured to believe that happiness could exist for me!"
And again a long pause ensued, broken at last by D'Harville's vehemently exclaiming, "What a wretch am I!"
"Albert," said Clémence, gently, "for worlds would I not reproach you; yet is my promise of being unto you the most loving and affectionate of sisters unworthy any estimation? You will receive from the tender cares of devoted friendship more solid happiness than love could afford. Look forward to brighter days. Hitherto you have found me almost indifferent to your sorrows; you shall henceforward find me all zeal and solicitude to alleviate them, and eager to share with you every grief or cause of suffering, whether of body or of mind."
At this moment a servant, throwing open the folding doors, announced:
"His Highness the Grand Duke of Gerolstein."
M. d'Harville started; then, by a powerful effort, recovering his self-command, he advanced to meet his visitor.
"I am singularly fortunate, madame," said Rodolph, approaching Clémence, "to find you at home to-night; and I am still more delighted with my good fortune, since it procures me the pleasure of meeting you, also, my dear Albert," continued he, turning to the marquis, and shaking him cordially by the hand.
"It is, indeed, some time since I have had the honour of paying my respects to your royal highness."
"If the truth must be spoken, my dear Albert," said the prince, smilingly, "you are somewhat platonic in your friendships, and, relying on the certain attachment of your friends, care very little about either giving or receiving any outward proof of affection."
By a breach of etiquette, which somewhat annoyed Madame d'Harville, a servant here entered the room with a letter for the marquis. It was the anonymous epistle of Sarah, accusing Rodolph of being the lover of Madame d'Harville.