He is called
Albert de Commarin."
The marchioness at this moment, thinking she had walked enough,
was preparing to return to her rose-coloured boudoir. She therefore
approached the arbour, and exclaimed in her loud voice:--
"Worthy magistrate, piquet awaits you."
Mechanically the magistrate arose, stammering, "I am coming."
Claire held him back. "I have not asked you to keep my secret, sir,"
said she.
"O mademoiselle!" said M. Daburon, wounded by this appearance of doubt.
"I know," resumed Claire, "that I can count upon you; but, come what
will, my tranquillity is gone."
M. Daburon looked at her with an air of surprise; his eyes questioned
her.
"It is certain," continued she, "that what I, a young and inexperienced
girl, have failed to see, has not passed unnoticed by my grandmother.
That she has continued to receive you is a tacit encouragement of your
addresses; which I consider, permit me to say, as very honourable to
myself."
"I have already mentioned, mademoiselle," replied the magistrate, "that
the marchioness has deigned to authorise my hopes."
And briefly he related his interview with Madame d'Arlange, having the
delicacy, however, to omit absolutely the question of money, which had
so strongly influenced the old lady.
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