Maurice had guessed the point of this sudden attack. He was none the less surprised by Albert's answer.
"Decidedly, it is going to be even more difficult than I feared," he thought.
Indeed, Count Albert had evidently assumed a change of attitude. Love and jealousy had transformed this simple and generous heart into a being of metal; he had not lost any of his goodness, but he had put his soul in a state of defence and prepared himself for the struggle. He did not know anything, but his presentiments filled him with anguish. He was not unaware that his austerity provoked irony, but now it seemed to him that the irony was taking a form of pity which enraged him.
Dinner was over, the great hall filled with groups gathered together as their tastes dictated. Bridge and poker tables were produced, and some of the young people gathered about a table where liqueurs were being served. Maurice took his uncle by the arm and led him away.
"Let us go to your room, for no one must hear what I have to say to you."
"Not even your aunt?"
"No, uncle, not even aunt."
François was astonished, for he had supposed that it was of his own future that Maurice wished to speak. They went towards the Tower of Saint Genevieve.
"Uncle, what I have to say to you is very grave."
"What a lot of preamble! Well, I am listening."