The carriage was
waiting to take them for their drive.
The visit from the amiable Duchess rather disconcerted Albert, and
Jean, and Maurice and Genevieve. Everything seemed like the warring of
an implacable destiny. All four felt absolutely impotent.
The drive was stimulating. Esperance drew life at every breath. They
could watch the colour coming back into her cheeks.
As the carriage came out into a clearing, the Duke de Morlay rode
wildly by. His horse was covered with sweat and trembling so that he
had some difficulty in mastering it. The Duke inquired for Esperance's
health and decided that it must be excellent from her looks.
"But my dear Albert," he said, laughing, "you almost knocked me over
this morning, however, I do not blame you, I would have done as much
myself in your place. However, I must be off, my horse is fagged. I
shall see you later."
And he was gone.
"How pale the Duke looked," exclaimed Esperance.
"He is fatigued, he has been riding since this morning."
"Did he not lunch with you, cousin?"
"No."
"Why did he go away in such haste?"
"You are too curious."
Then, looking hard at her, "Perhaps he thought, like the good Duchess,
that your weakness was serious, and that all his little arrangements
were going to fall through."
"I understand that the Duchess cared, since the election of her son is
at stake, but the Duke, how would it affect him?"
Albert sitting opposite her in the carriage, looked her full in the
face.
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