ocent girl in gauze and silken lace and veiling.
He burst in upon her to declare his love, as if it were a question of
firing the first shot on a field of battle.

Poor novice! He found his ethereal sylphide shrouded in a brown cashmere
dressing-gown ingeniously befrilled, lying languidly stretched out upon
a sofa in a dimly lighted boudoir. Mme de Langeais did not so much as
rise, nothing was visible of her but her face, her hair was loose but
confined by a scarf. A hand indicated a seat, a hand that seemed white
as marble to Montriveau by the flickering light of a single candle at
the further side of the room, and a voice as soft as the light said:

"If it had been anyone else, M. le Marquis, a friend with whom I could
dispense with ceremony, or a mere acquaintance in whom I felt but slight
interest, I should have closed my door. I am exceedingly unwell."

"I will go," Armand said to himself.

"But I do not know how it is," she continued (and the simple warrior
attributed the shining of her eyes to fever), "perhaps it was a
presentiment of your kind visit (and no one can be more sensible of the
prompt attention than I), but the vapors have left my head."

"Then may I stay?"

"Oh, I should be very sorry to allow you to go. I told myself this
morning that it was impossible that I should have made the slightest
impression on your mind, and that in all probability you took my request
for one of the commonplaces of which Parisians are lavish on every
occasion. And I forgave your ingratitude in advance. An explorer
from the deserts is not supposed to know how exclusive we are in our
friendships in the Faubourg."

The gracious, half-murmured words dropped one by one, as if they had
been weighted with the gladness that apparently brought them to her
lips. The Duchess meant to have the full benefit of her headache, and
her speculation was fully successful. The General, poor man, was really
distressed by the lady's simulated distress. Like Crillon listening to
the story of the Crucifixion, he was ready to draw his sword against the
vapors. How could a man dare to speak just then to this suffering woman
of the love that she inspired? Armand had already felt that it would be
absurd to fire off a declaration of love point-blank at one so far above
other women. With a single thought came understanding of the delicacies
of feeling, of the soul's requirements. To love: what was that but to
know how to plead, to beg for alms, t