“Confess, mademoiselle, that it is at least rather strange that you should receive a vagabond Bohemian in your apartment; it seems to me that if he had only come to sing, you would not have been so embarrassed, so excited when I entered here.” Honorât, in his anger, made this remark at random, and as soon as the words were uttered, felt ashamed of them. But what was his astonishment, his vexation, his distress, to see Reine blush and cast down her eyes without saying a word. She was thinking of the portrait of the unknown hero, and the adventure connected with him; she was ignorant of Honorât’s allusion. The embarrassment of the young girl confirmed the chevalier in his suspicions, and he exclaimed, with bitterness: “Ah, Reine, never could I have believed you capable of forgetting yourself so far as to compromise your dearest interests by trusting them to such a contemptible creature!” “What do you mean, Honorât? I do not understand you. This is the first time I have ever heard you utter such words.” “It is the first time that I have had the assurance that I was your plaything!” cried he, unable to restrain his anger. “Really, you do not mean what you say!” “I mean, yes, I mean that now I can explain your hesitation, your constraint, your embarrassment; but what I cannot explain, is that you could have the cruelty to play this disgraceful rôle toward a man who has devoted his entire life to you.” “Why, Honorât, you are losing your senses! I do not deserve your reproaches.” “One of two things: either a month ago you thought of our marriage, or you think no longer of it. If you think no longer of it, you have played with the love of an honest man; if you still intend to fulfil it, in spite of the love which you have now in your heart, why, it is detestable!” Although Honorat’s suspicions were absurd, Reine, struck by these words, which offered some solution to the situation, kept silent. Honorât interpreted this silence as a confession of her duplicity. “You answer nothing,--you cannot answer! I was not mistaken then! This Bohemian is the secret emissary of M. de Signerol.” “Of M. de Signerol!” exclaimed Reine. “But you cannot think it I have never addressed a word to that man except in the presence of my father. Besides, you know very well the opinion that I have expressed of him.” “The better to dissimulate this beautiful preference, no doubt.” “M. de Signerol! M. de Signerol! indeed, you are silly!” “Let us discontinue this comedy, mademoiselle. My eyes have not left you for a moment I observed your embarrassment, your blushes even, when I spoke of the Bohemian to you. Let us discontinue this comedy, I tell you!”