What did he say next? What words had he uttered? They could only have been trivial, since they had no connection with what was passing in his heart. He told the story, perhaps, of the night before; he spoke, perhaps, of other things. What he said was of no consequence. His words fell in silence, and they could not come between their twin souls, responsive only to the mute rhythm of their love.
How, in that moment of exaltation, could he see behind him a rival whose eyes were gleaming with hatred? Count de Gorbio stood beside M. de la Boulays on the terrace, and what he saw and heard made him swell with suppressed anger.
He saw Françoise walking arm in arm with Didier and heard M. de la Boulays telling him that it was in vain that he had endeavored to induce his daughter to fix a date for the marriage.
"But I say, what did she reply?"
"She made no reply at all. She left me to meet Captain d'Haumont."
The Count could not repress a gesture of fury. Nevertheless the two men ceased talking, for the Captain and Françoise, summoned by the dinner bell, were coming up the steps to the terrace.
D'Haumont was placed next to Françoise at dinner, and the Count was seated opposite them. He at once turned the conversation to the subject of gold-diggers, and the hazards which attended their enterprises, and, in particular, the unfortunate necessity which forced persons who were out there to mix with the lowest type of adventurers.
"That's true," agreed d'Haumont, without betraying the least agitation. "Count de Gorbio knows the manners and customs of the country as if he had lived there."
The conversation could not continue for long in such a strain without the fear of some altercation arising during the dinner. The enmity of the two men was so obvious that the guests exchanged astonished glances. What were they about to witness?
M. de la Boulays was conscious of the danger and did not conceal his anxiety. Françoise, on the other hand, maintained her composure. She asked Count de Gorbio to tell them in his usual charming manner some of his theatrical anecdotes, which would change the subject from that of spies and savages.