Valentine clenched her fingers on the chair on which her hand rested, but she strove to retain her self-control.
For the first time in her life perhaps, Madame de Ravenelle uttered an exclamation, and seemed deeply moved; she could hardly murmur:
"It cannot be so, baron; there must be some mistake; such a marriage is impossible!"
"Mon Dieu! I said exactly the same thing, madame, when I heard of it; but since the Duc de Montaulac and the Baron de Freilly were present as witnesses to the marriage, and since they have confirmed the report, how can you entertain any further doubt?"
"And the old Marquis de Marvejols consented to this marriage?"
"He not only consented, but—and this may seem to you even more incredible—he forced his son to contract it, so to speak."
"He? the marquis?"
"Yes, madame.—You know that he is a very strange man, is the dear marquis! He has certain ideas, certain principles, on the subject of honor, which are worthy of much respect, no doubt; but still there are cases when one may well make an exception to the rule."
"And the Duc de Montaulac and the Baron de Freilly consented to act as witnesses to a marriage which violates all the proprieties, which is almost an insult to the nobility?"
"What would you have? It seems that it is quite a romantic story. They say that the girl, who was a model of virtue, was seduced by that scapegrace of a Léodgard—for the gentleman is said to be a sad rake. And then, the affair having had certain—er—consequences, the girl was turned out of doors by her parents, and but for a friend who assisted her and gave her shelter she would probably have died in the street; for the dashing Léodgard had abandoned her!"