Reuter's gratification at this piece of intelligence (which was a lie,
by-the-by--I had never been so far gone as that, after all). M. Pelet
proceeded to ask what she intended to do with me, intimating pretty
plainly, and not very gallantly, that it was nonsense for her to think
of taking such a "blanc-bec" as a husband, since she must be at least
ten years older than I (was she then thirty-two? I should not have
thought it). I heard her disclaim any intentions on the subject--the
director, however, still pressed her to give a definite answer.

"Francois," said she, "you are jealous," and still she laughed; then, as
if suddenly recollecting that this coquetry was not consistent with the
character for modest dignity she wished to establish, she proceeded,
in a demure voice: "Truly, my dear Francois, I will not deny that this
young Englishman may have made some attempts to ingratiate himself with
me; but, so far from giving him any encouragement, I have always treated
him with as much reserve as it was possible to combine with civility;
affianced as I am to you, I would give no man false hopes; believe me,
dear friend." Still Pelet uttered murmurs of distrust--so I judged, at
least, from her reply.

"What folly! How could I prefer an unknown foreigner to you? And
then--not to flatter your vanity--Crimsworth could not bear comparison
with you either physically or mentally; he is not a handsome man at all;
some may call him gentleman-like and intelligent-looking, but for my
part--"

The rest of the sentence was lost in the distance, as the pair, rising
from the chair in which they had been seated, moved away. I waited their
return, but soon the opening and shutting of a door informed me that
they had re-entered the house; I listened a little longer, all was
perfectly still; I listened more than an hour--at last I heard M. Pelet
come in and ascend to his chamber. Glancing once more towards the long
front of the garden-house, I perceived that its solitary light was
at length extinguished; so, for a time, was my faith in love and
friendship. I went to bed, but something feverish and fiery had got into
my veins which prevented me from sleeping much that night.

CHAPTER XIII.

NEXT morning I rose with the dawn, and having dressed myself and stood
half-an-hour, my elbow leaning on the chest of drawers, considering what
means I should adopt to restore my spirits, fagged with sleeplessness,
to their ordinary tone--for