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My reputation is gone, is utterly lost, and yet I am spotless as the driven snow." Norbert was half-mad with anger. "Who would dare to treat you with anything save the most profound respect?" said he. "Alas! my dear Norbert," replied she, "to-morrow the scandal will be even greater.
"Hush! we shall soon see what it is that has happened." And she inspected what she laughingly termed his terrible wound. It was, as she had supposed, a mere nothing. One pellet had grazed the skin, another had lodged in the flesh, but it was quite on the surface. "A surgeon must see to this," said Norbert. "No, no." And with the point of a penknife she pulled out the little leaden shot.
While dreading the anger of her obdurate father, Marie had at one time thought of confiding the secret of her attachment to George de Croisenois to Norbert, for she had the idea that if she told him that her heart was another's, he might withdraw his pretensions to her hand; but several times, when the opportunity occurred, fear restrained her tongue, and she let the propitious moment pass away.
"It seems to me," objected Catenac "Perhaps," broke in Mascarin, "you have forgotten the correspondence which the Countess de Mussidan preserved so carefully both his letters and her own, which Norbert returned to her." "And we have those?" "Of course we have, only there is a perfect romance contained in these letters. What I have read is a mere bald extract from them; and this is not all.
"No one dare give an opinion; my poor master is quite unconscious, and should he recover and I do not think for a moment that he will the doctor says his mind will have entirely gone." "Horrible! Too horrible! And a man of such intellectual power, too. I shall not ask you to let me look at him, for I could do no good, and the sight would upset me. But can I not see M. Norbert?"
Next year I will take you to Paris and show you our house there. You will see in it the most wonderful tapestry, pictures by the best masters, for I have ornamented and embellished it as a lover adorns a house for a beloved mistress, and that house, Norbert, is the home that your grandchildren will dwell in." The Duke uttered these words in a tone of jubilant triumph.
It is not you, Marquis, that she loves, but our name and fortune; but I know if she does not that the law will imprison women who contrive to entrap young men who are under age." Norbert turned deadly pale. "Did you really say that to her?" asked he, in a low, hoarse voice, utterly unlike his own. "You dare to insult the woman I love, when you knew that I was far away and unable to protect her!
Norbert looked earnestly at her, but could not say who she was, though he was certain that he had seen her face somewhere. "Who are you?" asked he. She burst into a flood of tears, but made no other reply. "Come," resumed he, in more soothing accents; "you shall not be hurt. Tell me who you are." "Caroline Schimmel." "Caroline?" repeated he. "Yes.
Diana suffered acutely, but her pride supported her, whilst her confidence in Norbert was so great that she had the boldness to inquire, "And what did he say to that?" "Norbert will become a dutiful son once more when he is removed from the malignant influence which has been so injurious to him," returned the Duke fiercely. "Indeed."
"He would betray us; he would do anything for money." "That is all the better for us then; for if we promise him a handsome sum, he will not say a word of what has passed to-day." "Do as you think best, Norbert." Having thus gained Diana's assent, the young man turned to Daumon. "I put every faith in you, and so does Mademoiselle de Laurebourg. You know our exact situation. What do you advise?"
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