throw away their cigarettes, and all made their way to the long gallery.
The Baron de Samoreau and the Chevalier de Sainte-Foy remained alone
together.

The Duchess took the occasion to speak quietly to her brother.

"I assure you that you are too hard with her," she said. "There is no
need to excuse yourself for not marrying. No one dreams of such a thing
--she no more than any one else. But she seems to have a sentiment of
friendship toward you, and I am sure that your harshness wounds her."

A more experienced woman than Madame de Montgeron, who had known only a
peaceful and legitimate love, would have quickly divined that beneath her
brother's brusque manner lurked a budding but hopeless passion, whence
sprang his intermittent revolt against the object that had inspired it.

This revolt was not only against Zibeline's fortune; it included her all-
pervading charm, which penetrated his soul. He was vexed at his sister
for having brought them together; he was angry with himself that he had
allowed his mind to be turned so quickly from his former prejudices; and,
however indifferent he forced himself to appear, he was irritated against
Lenaieff because of the attentions which that gentleman showered upon
Zibeline, upon whom he revenged himself by assuming the aggressive
attitude for which the Duchess had reproached him.

In a still worse humor after the sisterly remonstrance to which he had
just been compelled to listen, he seated himself near the entrance of the
gallery, where the gypsy band was playing one of their alluring waltzes,
of a cadence so different from the regular and monotonous measure of
French dance music.