"On my word, monseigneur, lots of things that I couldn't understand—Oh, wait, I remember, she asked me if you were master of the château, and as soon as I said 'Yes,' she began to cry."
"She wept?"
"Oh, yes, monseigneur, she did nothing else, and then she asked me your name."
"What did you answer?"
"Mercy, I said that you were called monseigneur le marquis."
"She asked you no other questions?"
"No, monseigneur."
"And why did you leave her?"
"Monseigneur, it was because she told me she would like me to leave her."
The marquis signed to them to leave him. He did not wish anyone to witness the emotion which he felt. It gave him satisfaction to know that Blanche was within his walls, but the sorrow which she showed disturbed his content. He dared not go back to her yet, deeming it wiser to allow her time to recover from the first pangs of her grief. He threw himself upon his bed, but he could not sleep. The image of Blanche was incessantly before his eyes, and with her came the remembrance of the many errors of his youth which he wished in vain to drive from his mind.