The astonishment of finding his best friend alone at night in his
wife's room deprived him of speech. The Princess had collapsed
onto some cushions and never perhaps has fate put three people in
a more unhappy position. At last the Prince made an attempt to
make sense of the chaos before his eyes. He addressed the Comte
in a tone of voice which still had some friendliness, "What is
this I see?" he said. "Is it possible that a man I love so dearly
has chosen among all other women to seduce my wife? And you
madame," he said, turning to his wife, "was it not enough to
deprive me of your love and my honour without depriving me of the
one man who could have consoled me in such circumstances? Answer
me, one of you," he said to them, "and explain this affair, which
I cannot believe is what it seems." The Princess was incapable
of replying and the Comte opened his mouth once or twice but was
unable to speak.

"You see me as a criminal" he said at last, "and unworthy of the
friendship you have shown me; but the situation is not what you
may think it is. I am more unhappy than you and more despairing.
I do not know how to tell you more than that. My death would
avenge you, and if you were to kill me now you would be doing me
a favour." These words, spoken with an air of the deepest sorrow,
and in a manner which declared his innocence instead of
enlightening the Prince confirmed him in the view that something
mysterious was going on which he did not understand. His
unhappiness was increased by this uncertainty. "Kill me
yourself," he said, "or give me some explanation of your words
for I can understand nothing. You owe it to my friendship, you
owe it to my restraint, for anyone but me would have already
taken your life to avenge such an affront."