And her voice, in asking from her former friend a list of "customers,"
was as calm and as natural as in other days, when she was asking her to
come and spend an afternoon at Sairmeuse.
So, when the two girls embraced each other, their roles were reversed.
It was Marie-Anne who had been crushed by misfortune; it was Mlle.
Blanche who wept.
But, while writing a list of the names of persons in the neighborhood
with whom she was acquainted, Mlle. de Courtornieu did not neglect
this favorable opportunity for verifying the suspicions which had been
aroused by Martial's momentary agitation.
"It is inconceivable," she remarked to her friend, "that the Duc de
Sairmeuse should allow you to be reduced to such an extremity."
Marie-Anne's nature was so royal, that she did not wish an unjust
accusation to rest even upon the man who had treated her father so
cruelly.
"The duke is not to blame," she replied, gently; "he offered us a very
considerable sum, this morning, through his son."
Mlle. Blanche started as if a viper had stung her.
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