Isaure blushed hotly as she stammered:
"The two young men? Ah! you know—do you know them, monsieur?"
"Yes, I know them very well now. But do you know them? do you know who they are?"
"I know that their names are Edouard and Alfred, that they are staying at the Château of La Roche-Noire, and that they are pleasant and very courteous to me."
"And is that all that you know?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"You lie, girl; you know very well that both of them are in love with you."
Isaure tried to raise her eyes, but the stranger’s expression forced her to lower them again at once, and she replied in a trembling voice:
"Those gentlemen may have told me that in jest; I should have done wrong to believe them."
"Morbleu! in jest or otherwise, as if there were not a thousand ways of making themselves understood! The silliest woman sees when she makes an impression; all the more she who, like you, is neither a fool nor affected. Oh! my dear, believe that I know women better than you know your goats and your hens! I have had my day; it was short, it is true, but I made the most of it! They found me as agreeable, as fascinating, as you find Alfred and Edouard, but I rushed my intrigues more rapidly than these young men do. How many beauties seduced, and then abandoned that I might seduce others! How well I could assume all tones, affect all the varying shades of sentiment, to ensnare my victims! I would feign love, grief, despair; I would shed tears; but in reality my heart was dry, and I laughed in my sleeve at the sighs which moved those women to compassion. Ah! yes, I may say that I have had a very brilliant flight—it’s a pity that it ended so badly!"