Even now she feared to jump to the obvious conclusion feared lest
perhaps the Marquis, though himself wounded, might have dealt his
adversary a deadlier wound.
She found her voice at last, and at the same moment signalled to
the driver of the caleche to stop.
As it was pulled to a standstill, M. d'Ormesson alighted, and so
met madame in the little space between the two carriages.
"Where is M. Moreau?" was the question with which she surprised him.
"Following at his leisure, no doubt, madame," he answered,
recovering.
"He is not hurt?"
"Unfortunately it is we who... " M. d'Ormesson was beginning, when
from behind him M. de La Tour d'Azyr's voice cut in crisply:
"This interest on your part in M. Moreau, dear Countess... "
He broke off, observing a vague challenge in the air with which
she confronted him. But indeed his sentence did not need completing.
There was a vaguely awkward pause. And then she looked at M.
d'Ormesson. Her manner changed. She offered what appeared to be
an explanation of her concern for M.
Pages:
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581