“As soon as I finished writing in her album for her, and when she asked me to come out of the room with her (you heard?), we went into the dining-room, and she gave me your letter to read, and then told me to return it.”
“To read?” cried Gania, almost at the top of his voice; “to read, and you read it?”
And again he stood like a log in the middle of the pavement; so amazed that his mouth remained open after the last word had left it.
“Yes, I have just read it.”
“And she gave it you to read herself—herself?”
“Yes, herself; and you may believe me when I tell you that I would not have read it for anything without her permission.”
Gania was silent for a minute or two, as though thinking out some problem. Suddenly he cried:
“It’s impossible, she cannot have given it to you to read! You are lying. You read it yourself!”
“I am telling you the truth,” said the prince in his former composed tone of voice; “and believe me, I am extremely sorry that the circumstance should have made such an unpleasant impression upon you!”
“But, you wretched man, at least she must have said something? There must be some answer from her!”