“I am not asking you who you are—only my road—the way for a poor boy to reach his father in distress.”
In the almost childish voice was firmness which struck the cavalier.
“My friend, we are on the road to Paris,” he replied: “I have only been there twice and do not know it very well, but I am sure this is the right one.”
Sebastian drew back a step offering his thanks. The horses had need of getting their wind and started off again not very rapidly.
“My Lord Viscount,” said the lackey to his master, “do you not recognize that youth?”
“No: though I fancied——“
“It is young Sebastian Gilbert, who is at boarding school, at Abbé Fortier’s; and who comes over to Billet’s Farm with Ange Pitou.”
“You are right, by Jove!” Turning his horse and stopping, he called out: “Is this you, Sebastian?”
“Yes, my lord,” returned the boy, who had known the horseman all the time.
“Then, come, and tell me how I find you here?”