He had been there hardly a quarter of an hour when he saw the Countess de Morgueil go by. She was alone and walked nervously. On the doorstep she stopped and looked back into the distance. He saw her tremble, then go in quickly. He stood up on his bench to see what she had been looking at, but he almost fell, and had to steady himself by holding on to a branch. Albert and the Duke were together. Albert had put his hand on the Duke's shoulder, and the Duke had removed that great hand. They were walking side by side towards the extensive terrace that commanded the countryside.
"Oh! the wretched woman! What can she have said? And to be able to do nothing, nothing," he thought.
He lighted a cigarette, waiting, he did not know for what. But he could not go back to his room.
As he put his hand on the Duke's shoulder Albert had said, "I wish to talk to you."
"Very well. I am listening."
"I want you to answer me with perfect truth."
"Your request would be offensive, Albert, if it were not for your emotion."
"Is it true that you love Esperance Darbois?"
"It is true."
"Is it true that you want to marry her?"