“No—but now I do.”
Carola, still holding her head in her hands, looked with great tragic eyes from one to another. M. de Richelieu crossed over to her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
“I always promised you, Madame, that you should have your own way in your whims—and I have done what you asked me to. Unfortunately, Monsieur de Vauvenargues refuses.”
“He has had no time to consider,” she said, without changing her attitude.
Luc stepped from the window.
“One word, M. le Duc—this is your house?”
“Yes,” answered M. de Richelieu, with the slightest lift of his delicate brows.
“You know that,” breathed Carola; “from the first you must have known——”
“No,” said Luc. “I am from the provinces.”
The Duke’s clear glance went from one to another; he spoke very gravely, with an even pride.