" Then he turned to go, and, in fact,
he had already opened the door, when a forlorn hope brought him
back to Mademoiselle Marguerite, whose hand he took, timidly
faltering, "We are friends, are we not?"
She did not withdraw her icy hand, and in a scarcely audible
voice, she repeated: "We are friends?"
Convinced that he could obtain nothing more from her than her
promised neutrality, the lieutenant thereupon hastily left the
room, and she sank back in her chair more dead than alive. "Great
God! what is coming now?" she murmured.
She thought she could understand the unfortunate young man's
intentions, and she listened with a throbbing heart, expecting to
hear a stormy explanation between his parents and himself. In
point of fact, she almost immediately afterward heard the
lieutenant inquire in a stern, imperious voice: "Where is my
father?"
"The General has just gone to his club."
"And my mother?"
"A friend of hers called a few moments ago to take her to the
opera."
"What madness!"
That was all. The outer door opened and closed again with extreme
violence, and then Marguerite heard nothing save the sneering
remarks of the servants.
It was, indeed, madness on the part of M. and Madame de Fondege
not to have waited to learn the result of this interview, planned
by themselves, and upon which their very lives depended.
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