"Here?" interrupted Maxence.
"Yes, brother, here. He arrived at the very moment, when, basely insulted by M. Costeclar, I commanded him to withdraw, and, instead of going, he was walking towards me with outstretched arms."
"He dared to penetrate here!" murmured Mme. Favoral.
"Yes, mother: he came in just in time to seize M. Costeclar by his coat-collar, and to throw him at my feet, livid with fear, and begging for mercy. He came, notwithstanding the terrible calamity that has befallen us. Notwithstanding ruin, and notwithstanding shame, he came to offer me his name, and to tell me, that, in the course of the day, he would send a friend of his family to apprise you of his intentions."
Here she was interrupted by the servant, who, throwing open the parlor-door, announced, "The Count de Villegre."
If it had occurred to the mind of Mme. Favoral or Maxence that Mlle.
Gilberte might have been the victim of some base intrigue, the mere appearance of the man who now walked in must have been enough to disabuse them.
He was of a rather formidable aspect, with his military bearing, his bluff manners, his huge white mustache, and the deep scar across his forehead.
But in order to be re-assured, and to feel confident, it was enough to look at his broad face, at once energetic and debonair, his clear eye, in which shone the loyalty of his soul, and his thick red lips, which had never opened to utter an untruth.
At this moment, however, he was hardly in possession of all his faculties.
That valiant man, that old soldier, was timid; and he would have felt much more at ease under the fire of a battery than in that humble parlor in the Rue St. Gilles, under the uneasy glance of Maxence and Mme. Favoral.
Having bowed, having made a little friendly sign to Mlle. Gilberte, he had stopped short, two steps from the door, his hat in his hand.
Eloquence was not his forte. He had prepared himself well in advance; but though he kept coughing: hum! broum! though he kept running his finger around his shirt-collar to facilitate his delivery, the beginning of his speech stuck in his throat.
Seeing how urgent it was to come to his assistance, "I was expecting you, sir," said Mlle. Gilberte. With this encouragement, he advanced towards Mme. Favoral, and, bowing low, "I see that my presence surprises you, madame," he began; "and I must confess that - hum! - it does not surprise me less than it does you. But extraordinary circumstances require exceptional action.
On any other occasion, I would not fall upon you like a bombshell.
But we had no time to waste in ceremonious formalities. I will, therefore, ask your leave to introduce myself: I am General Count de Villegre."
Maxence had brought him a chair.
"I am ready to hear you, sir," said Mme. Favoral. He sat down, and, with a further effort, "I suppose, madame," he resumed, " that your daughter has explained to you our singular situation, which, as I had the honor of telling you - hum! - is not strictly in accordance with social usage."
Mlle. Gilberte interrupted him.
"When you came in, general, I was only just beginning to explain the facts to my mother and brother."
The old soldier made a gesture, and a face which showed plainly that he did not much relish the prospect of a somewhat difficult explanation - broum! Nevertheless, making up his mind bravely, "It is very simple," he said: "I come in behalf of M. de Tregars."
Maxence fairly bounced upon his chair. That was the very name which he had just heard mentioned by the commissary of police.
"Tregars!" he repeated in a tone of immense surprise.
"Yes," said M. de Villegre. "Do you know him, by chance?"
No, sir, no!"
"Marius de Tregars is the son of the most honest man I ever knew, of the best friend I ever had, - of the Marquis de Tregars, in a word, who died of grief a few years ago, after - hum! - some quite inexplicable - broum! - reverses of fortune. Marius could not be dearer to me, if he were my own son. He has lost his parents: I have no relatives; and I have transferred to him all the feelings of affection which still remained at the bottom of my old heart.
"And I can say that never was a man more worthy of affection. I know him. To the most legitimate pride and the most scrupulous integrity, he unites a keen and supple mind, and wit enough to get the better of the toughest rascal. He has no fortune for the reason that - hum! - he gave up all he had to certain pretended creditors of his father. But whenever he wishes to be rich, he shall be; and - broum! - he may be so before long. I know his projects, his hopes, his resources.
But, as if feeling that he was treading on dangerous ground, the Count de Villegre stopped short, and, after taking breath for a moment, "In short," he went on, "Marius has been unable to see Mlle.
Gilberte, and to appreciate the rare qualities of her heart, without falling desperately in love with her."
Mme. Favoral made a gesture of protest, "Allow me, sir," she began.
But he interrupted her.
"I understand you, madame," he resumed. "You wonder how M. de Tregars can have seen your daughter, have known her, and have appreciated her, without your seeing or hearing any thing of it.
Nothing is more simple, and, if I may venture to say - hum! - more natural."
And the worthy old soldier began to explain to Mme. Favoral the meetings in the Place-Royale, his conversations with Marius, intended really for Mlle. Gilberte, and the part he had consented to play in this little comedy. But he became embarrassed in his sentences, he multiplied his hum! and his broum! in the most alarming manner; and his explanations explained nothing.
Mlle. Gilberte took pity on him; and, kindly interrupting him, she herself told her story, and that of Marius.
She told the pledge they had exchanged, how they had seen each other twice, and how they constantly heard of each other through the very innocent and very unconscious Signor Gismondo Pulei.
Maxence and Mme. Favoral were dumbfounded. They would have absolutely refused to believe such a story, had it not been told by Mlle. Gilberte herself.