"And now, Marianne," said the nobleman, "you must ride away as you came," and suiting the action to the words he swung her into the saddle. She was docile now and gathered up the reins obediently. "And, Marianne," continued the nobleman, "never write letters to me. I am rather fastidious and do not want my illusions dispelled too soon. Good-by, my child."
She flushed as he spoke, and a retort seemed about to spring to her lips; but instead of replying she shrugged her shoulders, gave a sharp cut of the whip to the horse, and rode off down the pathway.
De Lacheville laughed. "She has spirit to the last. She pleases me;" and turning, beheld Robert Tournay in the path before him.
For a moment neither spoke; then the nobleman asked sternly, "Have you been spying upon me?"
"I have heard what has passed between you and that woman," replied Tournay with a significance that made the marquis start.
"You villain," replied the nobleman hotly, "if you breathe a word about what you have seen I will have you whipped by my lackeys."
Tournay's lips curled defiantly.
"Or," continued the marquis, "if one word of scandal reaches the ears of Mademoiselle de Rochefort"—
Before the words had left his lips, Tournay sprang forward and had him by the arm.
"Do not stain her name by speaking it," he cried fiercely. "I have heard you insult her; I have seen how you would dishonor her; you, who are not worthy to touch the hem of her garment. What right have you to become her husband? Your very presence would degrade her. You shall not wed her."