She pursued the conversation no further, but resolved to go on with the experiment. When she next saw Jacques some days later, she began to question him again,—
"How is this, Monsieur de Montgommery? Still more melancholy than usual?"
"I am indeed, Madame," said the count, humbly; "for I shudder to think that I have offended you."
"Not offended, Monsieur," said the duchess, "but grieved sorely."
"Oh, Madame," cried Montgomery, "I, who would give all my blood to spare you a tear,—how can it be that I have caused you the least grief?"
"Did you not tell me that because I was the king's favorite I had no right to aspire to the affection of a simple gentleman?"
"Ah, I had no such idea as that, Madame," said the count; "indeed, I could have no such idea, for I, a simple gentleman, love you with a passion as sincere as it is profound. I only meant to say to you that you could not love me, since the king loves you and you love him."
"The king does not love me, nor do I love the king," replied Diane.
"God in heaven! Then you may come to love me!" cried Montgommery.
"I may love you," replied Diane, calmly; "but I can never tell you that I love you."