Tavannes drew forth a comfit-box, such as it was the fashion of the day to carry, as men of a later time carried a snuff-box. He slowly chose a prune.
“If she says it?” he answered. “Then M. de Tignonville has regained his sweetheart. And M. de Tavannes has lost his bride.”
“You say so?”
“Yes. But—”
“But what?”
“But she will not say it,” Tavannes replied coolly.
“Why not?”
“Why not?”
“Yes, Monsieur, why not?” the younger man repeated, trembling.
“Because, M. de Tignonville, it is not true.”