"Perhaps he has some project, some plan he is meditating, that he thinks he ought not to confide to you yet." "That is possible; yet he has never hidden anything from me, even his most undeveloped plans. No, no, it is not business affairs which absorb him, because yesterday, instead of talking with his father and me of the state of things, which I confess to you, Madeleine, is graver than I thought, or than I told you, Charles talked of things altogether irrelevant to the subject which concerned us so deeply. And then I did not have the courage to blame him, because he talked to us especially of you." "Of me? And what did he say?" "That you had been so full of kindness to him yesterday morning. Then he asked me a thousand little details about you, about your infancy and your life. I replied to him with pleasure, as you can well believe, Madeleine. Then suddenly he relapsed into a gloomy silence,--into a sort of meditation so deep that nothing could draw him out of it, not even the caresses of our children." At this moment the old servant of M. Hubert entered, with a surprised and busy air, and said to Sophie: "Madame, Mlle. Antonine is with her uncle, no doubt!" "Yes, Peter; what is the matter?" "My God, madame! it has astonished me so that I do not know what to answer." "What is it, Peter? Explain yourself." "Well, madame, it is this. There is a strange officer there; probably one belonging to the prince who now occupies the Élysée." "Well?" "This officer has a letter which he wishes to deliver himself, he says, into the hands of President Hubert, who must give an answer. I tried in vain to make this officer understand that monsieur was very sick. He assured me that it concerned a very important and very urgent matter, and that he came from his Highness who occupies the Élysée. Then, madame, in my embarrassment I have come to you to ask what I must do." Madame Dutertre, forgetting her grievance, turned to Madeleine and said, quickly, with the greatest joy: "Your hope has not been mistaken. This letter from the prince is, perhaps, his consent to this marriage. Poor Antonine, how happy she will be!" "We must not rejoice too soon, dear Sophie. Let us wait. But do you go and see this officer, who is no doubt an aid of the prince. Tell him that M. Hubert, although a little better, is not able to receive him. Ask the officer to give you the letter, assuring him that you will deliver it at once to M. Hubert, who will send an answer." "You are right, Madeleine. Come, Peter," said Sophie, going out of the room, accompanied by the old servant. "I was not mistaken," said the marquise, when she was alone. "Those glances of M. Dutertre. Really it seems a fatality. But I hope," added she, smiling, "in Sophie's interest, and in her husband's, I shall be able to draw some good from this slight infidelity." Then, reflecting a moment, Madeleine added: