The forced and somewhat feverish gayety of Adrienne contrasted painfully with her pale and suffering countenance; it was so easy to see that she strove to stifle with laughter some deep sorrow, that M. de Montbron was much affected by it; but, dissembling his emotion, he appeared to reflect a moment, and took up mechanically one of the new, fresh-cut books, by which Adrienne was surrounded.  After casting a careless glance at this volume, he continued, still dissembling his feelings:  “Come, my dear madcap:  this is another folly.  Suppose I were twenty years old, and that you did me the honor to marry me—­you would be called Lady de Montbron, I imagine?”

“Perhaps.”

“How perhaps?  Would you not bear my name, if you married me?”

“My dear count,” said Adrienne, with a smile, “do not let us pursue this hypothesis, which can only leave us—­regrets.”

Suddenly, M. de Montbron started, and looked at Mdlle, de Cardoville with an expression of surprise.  For some moments, whilst talking to Adrienne, he had mechanically—­taken up two or three of the volumes scattered over the couch, and had glanced at their titles in the same careless manner.  The first was the “Modern History of India.”  The second, “Travels in India.”  The third, “Letters on India.”  Much surprised, M. de Montbron had continued his investigation, and found that the fourth volume continued this Indian nomenclature, being “Rambles in India.”  The fifth was, “Recollections of Hindostan.”  The sixth, “Notes of a Traveller in the East Indies.”

Hence the astonishment, which, for many serious reasons, M. de Montbron had no longer been able to conceal, and which his looks betrayed to Adrienne.  The latter, having completely forgotten the presence of the accusing volumes by which she was surrounded, yielded to a movement of involuntary confusion, and blushed slightly; but, her firm and resolute character again coming to her aid, she looked full at M. de Montbron, and said to him:  “Well, my dear count! what surprises you?”

Instead of answering, M. de Montbron appeared still more absorbed in thought, and contemplating the young girl, he could not forbear saying to himself:  “No, no—­it is impossible—­and yet—­”

“It would, perhaps, be indiscreet in me to listen to your soliloquy, my dear count,” said Adrienne.

“Excuse me, my dear child; but what I see surprises me so much—­”

“And pray what do you see?”

“The traces of so great and novel an interest in all that relates to India,” said M. de Montbron, laying a slight stress on his words, and fixing a piercing look upon the young girl.

“Well!” said Adrienne, stoutly.

“Well!  I seek the cause of this sudden passion—­”

“Geographical?” said Mdlle. de Cardoville, interrupting M. de Montbron:  “you may find this taste somewhat serious for my age my dear count—­but one must find occupation for leisure hours—­and then, having a cousin, who is both an Indian and a prince, I should like to know something of the fortunate country from which I derive this savage relationship.”