"In my self-conceit I supposed that you might have heard how much I admired Mademoiselle Cicogna--how, having not long since met her at the house of Duplessis (who by the way writes me word that I shall meet you _chez lui_ tomorrow), I have since sought her society wherever there was a chance to find it. You may have heard, at our club, or elsewhere, how I adore her genius--how, I say, that nothing so _Breton_--that is, so pure and so lofty--has appeared and won readers since the days of Chateaubriand,--and--you, knowing that _les absents ont toujours tort_, come to me and ask Monsieur de Rochebriant, Are we rivals? I expected a challenge--you relieve my mind--you abandon the field to me?" At the first I warned the reader how improved from his old _mauvaise honte_ a year or so of Paris life would make our beau Marquis. How a year or two of London life with its horsey slang and its fast girls of the period would have vulgarised an English Rochebriant! Graham gnawed his lips and replied quietly, "I do not challenge! Am I to congratulate you?" "No, that brilliant victory is not for me. I thought that was made clear in the conversation I have referred to. But if you have done me the honour to be jealous I am exceedingly flattered. Speaking, seriously, if I admired Mademoiselle Cicogna when you and I last met, the admiration is increased by the respect with which I regard a character so simply noble. How many women older than she would have been spoiled by the adulation that has followed her literary success!--how few women so young, placed in a position so critical, having the courage to lead a life so independent, would have maintained the dignity of their character free from a single indiscretion! I speak not from my own knowledge, but from the report of all, who would be pleased enough to censure if they could find a cause. Good society is the paradise of _mauvaises langues_." Graham caught Alain's hand and pressed it, but made no answer. The young Marquis continued: "You will pardon me for speaking thus freely in the way that I would wish any friend to speak of the demoiselle who might become my wife. I owe you much, not only for the loyalty with which you address me in reference to this young lady, but for words affecting my own position in France, which sank deep into my mind--saved me from deeming myself a _proscrit_ in my own land--filled me with a manly ambition, not stifled amidst the thick of many effeminate follies--and, in fact, led me to the career which is about to open before me, and in which my ancestors have left me no undistinguished examples. Let us speak, then, _a coeur ouvert_, as one friend to another. Has there been any misunderstanding between you and Mademoiselle Cicogna which has delayed your return to Paris? If so, is it over now?" "There has been no such misunderstanding." "Do you doubt whether the sentiments you expressed in regard to her when we met last year, are returned?"