"I am very much alarmed," said the Count, "not about Esperance's health, but about her state of mind. I am a poor psychologist, but my love for your cousin has sharpened my wits. It seems to me that the Duke is trying to make Esperance love him."
"Possibly; I had not noticed."
"Yes, Maurice, you have noticed and you have no right to deny it. I want to ask your advice. The Duke and I both love your cousin. One of us must lose. Just now I repulsed the Duke so rudely that he could have demanded satisfaction, but I foresee that he will let it pass. That attitude, so unusual to his temperament, proves that he wants to avoid scandal. Why? What is his object?"
"I don't know," said Maurice. "He has gone riding in the forest, probably to calm his nerves with solitude. He loves your fiancée, but his honour forces him to respect her."
"Perhaps," said Albert.
"I think," said Maurice, "that we should all leave this evening or to-morrow morning at the latest. Esperance is not ill, only worn out. She is easily exhausted."
"And if she loves the Duke?" pursued the Count.
"Then it is my place to ask you what you are going to do about it?"
Albert was silent a minute, then raising his pale face, answered slowly: "If she loves the Duke, I shall have to ask him what are his intentions; and if, as I believe, he wishes to marry her, I shall die a Chartist!"
The third gong vibrated, announcing lunch.