This conversation, in which, under all his mischievous banter, the duke seemed to have a definite and serious purpose in view, worried Isabelle very much, in spite of her efforts to banish it from her mind.  Could it be that Vallombreuse was nursing a secret resentment against de Sigognac?  He had never once spoken his name, or referred to him in any way, since he was wounded by him; and was he trying to place an insurmountable barrier between his sister and the baron, by bringing about her marriage with another? or was he simply trying to find out whether the actress transformed to a countess, had changed in sentiments as well as in rank?  Isabelle could not answer these questions satisfactorily to herself.  As she was the duke’s sister, of course the rivalry between him and de Sigognac could no longer exist; but, on the other hand, it was difficult to imagine that such a haughty, vindictive character as the young duke’s could have forgotten, or forgiven, the ignominy of his first defeat at the baron’s hands, and still less of the second more disastrous encounter.  Although their relative positions were changed, Vallombreuse, in his heart, would doubtless always hate de Sigognac—­even if he had magnanimity enough to forgive him, it could scarcely be expected that he should also love him, and be willing to welcome him as a member of his family.  No, all hope of such a reconciliation must be abandoned.  Besides, she feared that the prince, her father, would never be able to regard with favour the man who had imperilled the life of his only son.  These sad thoughts threw poor Isabelle into a profound melancholy, which she in vain endeavoured to shake off.  As long as she considered that her position as an actress would be an obstacle to de Sigognac, she had resolutely repelled the idea of a marriage with him, but now that an unhoped-for, undreamed-of stroke of destiny had heaped upon her all the good things that heart could desire, she would have loved to reward, with the gift of her hand and fortune, the faithful lover who had addressed her when she was poor and lowly—­it seemed an actual meanness, to her generous spirit, not to share her prosperity with the devoted companion of her misery.  But all that she could do was to be faithful to him—­for she dared not say a word in his favour, either to the prince or to Vallombreuse.

Very soon the young duke was well enough to join his father and sister at meals, and he manifested such respectful and affectionate deference to the prince, and such an ingenuous and delicate tenderness towards Isabelle, that it was evident he had, in spite of his apparent frivolity, a mind and character very superior to what one would have expected to find in such a licentious, ungovernable youth as he had been, and which gave promise of an honourable and useful manhood.  Isabelle took her part modestly—­but with a very sweet dignity, that sat well upon her—­in the conversation at the table, and in the salon, and her remarks were so to the point, so witty, and so apropos, that the prince was astonished as well as charmed, and grew daily more proud of and devoted to his new treasure; finding a happiness and satisfaction he had longed for all his life in the affection and devotion of his children.