She gave him no time for ceremonious greeting. "God be thanked, you are here!" exclaimed she. "Put down the portiere, that no one may hear what I have to say." Eugene obeyed mechanically, and loosening its heavy tassels, the crimson satin curtain fell heavily to the floor.
"And now," cried the duchess, indignantly, "now, Prince Eugene of Savoy, I command you to tell me the truth, and the whole truth! What have you done with her? How could you be so unknightly as to take advantage of her innocent and affectionate nature, to wrong one of the purest and most perfect of God's creatures! My heart is like to break with its weight of sorrow and disgrace; and, had it not been for Laura's sake, I would have laid my complaint before his majesty. But I must not expose her to the world's contumely, and therefore I endure your presence here. Tell me at once what have you done with my darling?"
Eugene could scarcely reply to this passionate appeal. His senses reeled—his heart seemed to freeze within him. He thought he comprehended; and yet—
"Who? Who is gone? Oh, duchess, be merciful; what mean these words of mystery?"
The duchess eyed him scornfully. "Base seducer, dare you question me? Do you strive to delude me into believing that you do not know of whom I speak? I demand of you at once the person of the Marchioness de Bonaletta!"
"Laura!" cried Eugene, in a tone of deepest despair. "Laura gone!
And you say that I enticed her away!"
"Tell me the truth, tell me the truth," cried madame.
"The truth!" groaned Eugene, while the duchess started from her seat, and grasped both his hands in hers.
"Have mercy," stammered he, trembling as if an ague had suddenly seized him. "Is she no longer—here?"
"She is no longer here," echoed the duchess, staring in astonishment at the writhing features of the unhappy prince.