“Oh, vicomte!” said Montalais, pointing to his reflection in a looking-glass.

“I know what you mean, mademoiselle; I am much altered, am I not? Well! Do you know why? Because my face is the mirror of my heart, the outer surface changed to match the mind within.”

“You are consoled, then?” said Montalais, sharply.

“No, I shall never be consoled.”

“I don’t understand you, M.

de Bragelonne.”

“I care but little for that. I do not quite understand myself.”

“You have not even tried to speak to Louise?”