“Can you see?”
“No.”
Noiselessly he knelt before her.
“Ah! I can hear you!” she cried, with a little fond gesture, thinking that the pretence of harshness was over.
He made as if he would kiss her lips; she held up her face.
“You can see, madame.”
“I am just a little bit curious.”
“So you always deceive me?”
“Ah! take off this handkerchief, sir,” she cried out, with the passion of a great generosity repelled with scorn, “lead me; I will not open my eyes.”
Armand felt sure of her after that cry. He led the way; the Duchess nobly true to her word, was blind. But while Montriveau held her hand as a father might, and led her up and down flights of stairs, he was studying the throbbing pulses of this woman’s heart so suddenly invaded by Love. Mme de Langeais, rejoicing in this power of speech, was glad to let him know all; but he was inflexible; his hand was passive in reply to the questionings of her hand.