Raoul, on betaking himself to De Guiche, found him conversing with De Wardes and Manicamp. De Wardes, since the affair of the barricade, had treated Raoul as a stranger; they behaved as if they were not acquainted. As Raoul entered, De Guiche walked up to him; and Raoul, as he grasped his friend’s hand, glanced rapidly at his two companions, hoping to be able to read on their faces what was passing in their minds. De Wardes was cold and impenetrable; Manicamp seemed absorbed in the contemplation of some trimming to his dress. De Guiche led Raoul to an adjoining cabinet, and made him sit down, saying, “How well you look!” “That is singular,” replied Raoul, “for I am far from being in good spirits.” “It is your case, then, Raoul, as it is my own,--our love affairs do not progress.” “So much the better, count, as far as _you_ are concerned; the worst news would be good news.” “In that case do not distress yourself, for, not only am I very unhappy, but, what is more, I see others about me who are happy.” “Really, I do not understand you,” replied Raoul; “explain yourself.” “You will soon learn. I have tried, but in vain, to overcome the feeling you saw dawn in me, increase, and take entire possession of me. I have summoned all your advice and my own strength to my aid. I have well weighed the unfortunate affair in which I have embarked; I have sounded its depths; that it is an abyss, I am aware, but it matters little for _I_ shall pursue my own course.” “This is madness, De Guiche! you cannot advance another step without risking your own ruin to-day, perhaps your life to-morrow.” “Whatever may happen, I have done with reflections; listen.” “And you hope to succeed; you believe that Madame will love you?” “Raoul, I believe nothing; I hope, because hope exists in man, and never abandons him until death.” “But, admitting that you obtain the happiness you covet, even then, you are more certainly lost than if you had failed in obtaining it.” “I beseech you, Raoul, not to interrupt me any more; you could never convince me, for I tell you beforehand, I do not wish to be convinced; I have gone so far I cannot recede; I have suffered so much, death itself would be a boon. I no longer love to madness, Raoul, I am being engulfed by a whirlpool of jealousy.” Raoul struck his hands together with an expression resembling anger. “Well?” said he.