“The theft of that letter was committed with quite another motive,” I replied. “That adventurer Wolf desires to marry the Princess, and with his accomplice has made you his catspaw to obtain the letter, and thus compel her to marry him. If she refuses, he threatens to denounce her.”
“Has he actually threatened this?” she cried in surprise. “I never dreamt that such was his motive.”
“She is in Paris, suffering from this scoundrel’s tyranny. As the man is an adventurer and spy, marriage between them is out of the question.” She turned to me, and, looking into my eyes, earnestly demanded:
“Tell me, Gerald, do you love her, as they told me that you do? You visited her at Chantoiseau, and it is said that you often went long walks in the forest together. Besides, in Paris you met often at various receptions and dances.”
“True,” I admitted. “We met often, and I have more than once been her guest at the château; but as to loving her, such an idea has never entered my head. She is a smart and attractive woman, like many others in the circle in which I am compelled to move; but I swear to you, by all I hold most sacred, that I never loved her in the past, and that to-day is as yesterday.”
“She loves you. That letter is sufficient proof of it.”
“It was written in a moment of madness,” I assured her. “She regretted it a few hours afterwards, and asked me to destroy it. The fault is entirely my own, for I neglected to carry out her wish. By my own culpable negligence she is placed in this position.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Forgive me, Gerald; I acted under compulsion, as I have always been compelled to act.”
“Certainly I forgive,” I answered. “But will it not be humane conduct on your part to rescue the Princess from this terrible doom? Wolf wishes to marry her for her money alone, and will force this step upon her if we can find no means to save her.”
She paused. Hitherto she had been jealous of Léonie, but now, upon my assurance that I had no love for her, I saw that she inclined towards mercy.