“I doubt his good faith, very sorely.”
“I should doubt it too, Marie, did I see any cause which should lead him to break it. But the match is in all respects more desirable for him than it is for us; for, though Mademoiselle d’Argenson is noble, rich, and handsome, the viscount de Douarnenez might be well justified in looking for a wife far higher than the daughter of a simple sieur of Bretagne. Besides, although the children loved before any one spoke of it—before any one saw it, indeed, save I—it was D’Argenson himself who broke the subject. What, then, should induce him to play false?”
“I do not know; yet I doubt—I fear him.”
“But that, Marie, is unworthy of your character—of your mind.”
“Louis, she is too beautiful!”
“I do not think Raoul will find fault with her on that score.”
“Nor would one greater than Raoul.”
“Whom do you mean?” cried the count, now for the first time startled.
“I have seen eyes fixed upon her in deadly admiration, which never admire but they pollute the object of their admiration.”
“The king’s, Marie?”