Maurice went in search of Charles de Morlay.
He met a forester, who told him that the Duke had gone for a ride in
the forest, and had sent word to the Duchess that he might not be back
to lunch.
Maurice returned disturbed and thoughtful. Genevieve was waiting for
him with the news that the Doctor had himself administered a sleeping
draught to Esperance which he said should make her sleep at least five
hours.
"So much the better! That will give us a little time to consider and
to decide what is to be done. The truth is that we ought to clear out
this very day! Love is a miscreant!"
"Not always, fortunately," murmured Genevieve.
"You, Genevieve, have a balanced mind, calm, just. If only my cousin
had your equilibrium!"
"Oh! Maurice, Maurice...."
A tear ran down Genevieve's eyelashes. She closed her eyes. He took
the lovely head in his hands and his lips rested on her pure forehead.
They remained so for one marvellous, never-to-be-forgotten second.
When he left her Maurice met Albert Styvens. They walked side by side
towards the woods.
"I am very much alarmed," said the Count, "not about Esperance's health,
but about her state of mind. I am a poor psychologist, but my love for
your cousin has sharpened my wits. It seems to me that the Duke is
trying to make Esperance love him."
"Possibly; I had not noticed."
"Yes, Maurice, you have noticed and you have no right to deny it. I
want to ask your advice.
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