She was served with soup and wine, and then with course after course of delicate, tempting viands; but she could not eat her heart was too full--her nerves were still quivering, from the terror and excitement of the preceding day and night.
She was dazzled and agitated by this sudden change of fortune, anxious about her brother, now lying at the point of death, and, above all, troubled and grieved at her separation from her lover--so she could only make a pretence of dining, and played languidly with the food on her plate.
"You are eating nothing, my dear comtesse," said the prince, who had been furtively watching her; "I pray you try to do better with this bit of partridge I am sending you." At this title of comtesse, spoken as a matter of course, and in such a kind, tender tone, Isabelle looked up at the prince with astonishment written in her beautiful, deep blue eyes, which seemed to plead timidly for an explanation.
"Yes, Comtesse de Lineuil; it is the title which goes with an estate I have settled on you, my dear child, and which has long been destined for you.

The name of Isabelle alone, charming though it be, is not suitable for my daughter." Isabelle, yielding to the impulse of the moment--as the servants had retired and she was alone with her father--rose, and going to his side, knelt down and kissed his hand, in token of gratitude for his delicacy and generosity.
"Rise, my child," said he, very tenderly, and much moved, "and return to your place.

What I have done is only just.

It calls for no thanks.

I should have done it long ago if it had been in my power.