“So be it,” cried the Marquis; “I will leave you, and find a wife worthy to be your sister.”
“So you really love me less than I thought you did?” said Laurence looking at him with a sort of jealousy.
“No; I love you better than either of you love me,” replied the marquis.
“And therefore you would sacrifice yourself?” asked Laurence with a glance full of momentary preference.
The marquis was silent.
“Well, then, I shall think only of you, and that will be intolerable to my husband,” exclaimed Laurence, impatient at his silence.
“How could I live without you?” said the younger twin to his brother.
“But, after all, you can’t marry us both,” said the marquis, replying to Laurence; “and the time has come,” he continued, in the brusque tone of a man who is struck to the heart, “to make your decision.”
He urged his horse in advance so that the d’Hauteserres might not overhear them. His brother’s horse and Laurence’s followed him. When they had put some distance between themselves and the rest of the party Laurence attempted to speak, but tears were at first her only language.
“I will enter a cloister,” she said at last.