"Mademoiselle, what service have I rendered you that deserves a
return?" said Madame du Gua, biting her lips in a sort of rage.
"Did you not enlighten me as to the true character of the Marquis de
Montauran, madame? With what utter indifference that man allowed me to
go to my death! I give him up to you willingly!"
"Then why are you here?" asked Madame du Gua, eagerly.
"To recover the respect and consideration you took from me at La
Vivetiere, madame. As for all the rest, make yourself easy. Even if
the marquis returned to me, you know very well that a return is never
love."
Madame du Gua took Mademoiselle de Verneuil's hand with that
affectionate touch and motion which women practise to each other,
especially in the presence of men.
"Well, my poor dear child," she said, "I am glad to find you so
reasonable. If the service I did you was rather harsh," she added,
pressing the hand she held, and feeling a desire to rend it as her
fingers felt its softness and delicacy, "it shall at least be
thorough. Listen to me, I know the character of the Gars; he meant to
deceive you; he neither can nor will marry any woman except--"
"Ah!"
"Yes, mademoiselle, he has accepted his dangerous mission to win the
hand of Mademoiselle d'Uxelles, a marriage to which his Majesty has
promised his countenance."
"Ah! ah!"
Mademoiselle de Verneuil added not a word to that scornful
ejaculation.
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