Corentin quietly folded the hair in the letter, laid the letter aside on the table, and put a box of counters on the top of it as if to prevent its blowing away. His coolness in the midst of the general emotion was horrible.
Peyrade unfolded the other letters.
“Oh, as for those,” said Laurence, “they are very much alike. You hear the will; you can now hear of its fulfilment. In future I shall have no secrets from any one.”
1794, Andernach. Before the battle.
My dear Laurence,—I love you for life, and I wish you to know it.
But you ought also to know, in case I die, that my brother,
Paul-Marie, loves you as much as I love you. My only consolation in
dying would be the thought that you might some day make my brother
your husband without being forced to see me die of jealousy—which
must surely happen if, both of us being alive, you preferred him
to me. After all, that preference seems natural, for he is,
perhaps, more worthy of your love than I—
Marie-Paul.
“Here is the other letter,” she said, with the color in her cheeks.
Andernach. Before the battle.
My kind Laurence,—My heart is sad; but Marie-Paul has a gayer
nature, and will please you more than I am able to do. Some day
you will have to choose between us—well, though I love you
passionately—
“You are corresponding with emigres,” said Peyrade, interrupting Laurence, and holding the letters between himself and the light to see if they contained between the lines any treasonable writing with invisible ink.
“Yes,” replied Laurence, folding the precious letters, the paper of which was already yellow with time. “But by virtue of what right do you presume to violate my dwelling and my personal liberty?”
“Ah, that’s the point!” cried Peyrade. “By what right, indeed!—it is time to let you know it, beautiful aristocrat,” he added, taking a warrant from his pocket, which came from the minister of justice and was countersigned by the minister of the interior. “See, the authorities have their eye upon you.”
“We might also ask you,” said Corentin, in her ear, “by what right you harbor in this house the assassins of the First Consul. You have applied your whip to my hands in a manner that authorizes me to take my revenge upon your cousins, whom I came here to save.”