"Deceived?" asked Rosas, in a tone of pity that struck Lissac.
"Deceived! yes! deceit is the complementary school of love."
"Then—if I loved Marianne?" asked Rosas.
"I would advise you to tell it to her at first, and prove it afterward, and finally to catalogue it in that album whose ashes are sprinkled at the bottom of the marriage gifts."
"You speak of Mademoiselle Kayser as you would speak of a courtesan," said the duke, in a choking voice.
"Ah! I give you my word," said Lissac, "that I should speak very differently of Mademoiselle Alice Aubry, or of Mademoiselle Cora Touchard. I would say to you quite frankly: They are pretty creatures; there is no danger."
"And Marianne, on the contrary, is dangerous."
"Oh! perfectly, for you."
"And why is she not dangerous for you?"
"Why, simply, my dear duke, because I am satisfied to love her as you have hitherto done and because I had, as I told you, the good fortune not to be her lover."