In the ante-chamber two men-servants were in attendance. One of them was helping Madame Darbois, and Esperance, still confused, slipped her arms in the sleeves of her cloak, and then stopped short. Her bare arm had been touched, she was sure of it.
She turned quickly. Her eyes met the Duke's enquiring but not altogether pleasant glance. With a quick gesture the girl clasped her mantle about her, and haughtily moved away without acknowledging the Duke's bow.
Neither M. nor Madame Darbois had seen anything of what had just passed.
The Duke de Morlay's bad humour vented itself against Count Styvens.
"I have just passed the Darbois in the cloak-room. The little flirt was in a pitiful state: I helped her on with her cloak and her skin was like ice."
Count Styvens turned almost in anger and his hands furtively opened and closed. A feeling of enmity was rising in his generous soul. He felt that the Duke had spoken slightingly of Esperance to wound him. Twice, during dinner, he had caught the covetous glance of the Duke fixed on Esperance, and he had suffered acutely in consequence. He looked at the Duke coldly; his shyness would have made him dumb had it not been for the sustaining power of his anger.
"I cannot reply to you now," he said. "My mother is here."
The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, who was, after all, a gentleman, came up to him.
"Albert, I am a fool. I beg your pardon."
And he went to take his leave of the Princess, who had quietly witnessed and understood the pantomime that had passed between these two men.