"It is true."
"My God! My God!" muttered Albert, and he stopped for a minute. He was choking. The Duke felt a profound pity for this man who was suffering at this moment the most terrible pain.
"Do you believe that she loves you?" Albert still went on.
"I have answered you with perfect frankness concerning myself, but do not ask me to answer for Mlle. Darbois."
"Yes; you are right, you cannot answer for her. I know that she does not love me, but I hoped to make her love me. I wanted to make her so happy!… That love has made a different man of me. What I regarded yesterday as a crime seems to me now the will of destiny. One of us two must disappear. If you kill me, I know her soul, she will not marry you; she would die rather. If I kill you, the tender compassion she feels for me will be changed into hatred. What I am doing now is a brutal act, an animal act, but I cannot do otherwise! My religious education had restrained my passions! At least I thought so," he said, passing his great hand across his stubborn forehead. "But no! My youth denied of love takes a terrible revenge upon me now, and I have to exert a horrible effort now not to strangle you."
The Duke had not stirred.
"I am at your orders, Albert; only I think you will have to arm yourself with patience for several hours longer. This fête, given by the Duchess, cannot be prevented by our quarrel. I suggest that you postpone our meeting until to-morrow evening. Our witnesses can meet if you like at one o'clock at the little Inn of the 'Three Roads.' It is only ten minutes distance from here. The innkeeper is loyal to me, I am his daughter's godfather. The garden is cut by a long alley which can serve as the field of honour. I will go at once to warn De Montagnac and his brother; then I will go to the 'Three Roads.'"
"Good," said Albert.
"Naturally, we leave Maurice Renaud out of our quarrel."
"Certainly," said Charles de Morlay bowing.