His interest in myself was less gratifying than the deepest indifference.

In Madame de Clericy I had one who wished to be my friend, but her attitude towards me was inscrutable.

She seemed to encourage Alphonse.

Did she, like the rest of them, suspect me of seeking to frustrate his suit by withholding his fortune?
She merely looked at me, and would say no word.

And of Lucille, what could I think but that she hated me?
At dinner we spoke of the siege, and of those sad affairs of France which drew all men's thoughts at this time.