Indeed, Count Albert had evidently assumed a change of attitude. Love
and jealousy had transformed this simple and generous heart into a
being of metal; he had not lost any of his goodness, but he had put
his soul in a state of defence and prepared himself for the struggle.
He did not know anything, but his presentiments filled him with
anguish. He was not unaware that his austerity provoked irony, but now
it seemed to him that the irony was taking a form of pity which
enraged him.
Dinner was over, the great hall filled with groups gathered together
as their tastes dictated. Bridge and poker tables were produced, and
some of the young people gathered about a table where liqueurs were
being served. Maurice took his uncle by the arm and led him away.
"Let us go to your room, for no one must hear what I have to say to
you."
"Not even your aunt?"
"No, uncle, not even aunt."
Francois was astonished, for he had supposed that it was of his own
future that Maurice wished to speak. They went towards the Tower of
Saint Genevieve.
"Uncle, what I have to say to you is very grave."
"What a lot of preamble! Well, I am listening."
"The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche loves Esperance passionately."
"Well, that is a pity for the Duke, but he will console himself easily
enough."
Maurice was silent before he continued, "Esperance is madly in love
with the Duke!"
Francois started violently.
"You are raving, Maurice; she is engaged to Count Styvens and has no
right to forget him.
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