CHAPTER XLV. IN WHICH MADAME ACQUIRES A PROOF THAT LISTENERS HEAR WHAT IS SAID.
There was a moment’s silence, as if the mysterious sounds of night were hushed to listen, at the same time as Madame, to the youthful passionate disclosures of De Guiche.
Raoul was about to speak. He leaned indolently against the trunk of the large oak, and replied in his sweet and musical voice, “Alas, my dear De Guiche, it is a great misfortune.”
“Yes,” cried the latter, “great indeed.”
“You do not understand me, De Guiche. I say that it is a great misfortune for you, not merely loving, but not knowing how to conceal your love.”
“What do you mean?” said De Guiche.
“Yes, you do not perceive one thing; namely, that it is no longer to the only friend you have,—in other words,—to a man who would rather die
