“You know perfectly well that those M. d’Ionis proposes are not honorable.”
“You have then no hope of modifying his intentions?”
She shook her head and was silent. This gesture was an eloquent explanation of the kind of man her husband was, a creature without heart or principle, indifferent to such an array of charms, and given over to excesses.
“Still,” replied I, “he authorizes you to be generous after victory.”
“And what does he take them for?” cried she, crimsoning with anger. “He forgets that the d’Aillanes are the soul of honor, and will never receive as a favor or benefit, what justice causes them to regard as the legal property of their family.”
I was struck with the energy she infused into this reply.
“Are you then so intimate with the d’Aillanes?” I asked. “I was not aware of it.”
She blushed again and answered in the negative.
“I have never had much to do with them,” said she; “but they are nearly enough related to me for our honor to be identical. I am quite sure that it was my uncle’s wish to leave them his fortune, and still more as M. d’Ionis having married me for what is termed mes beaux yeux, did not at that time have the countenance to look up a fortune for me by means of breaking this will, through some legal defect.” Then she added:
“Are you not acquainted with any of the d’Aillanes?”