"Is there anything so very astonishing in my being at Nantes, Maître Loriot?" asked Michel.
"Come, speak lower, and don't stand before that door as if you had taken root there; I advise you not."
"Goodness! what's the matter with you? I knew you were cautious, but not to that extent."
"One can't be too cautious. Come, let's talk as we walk; then we sha'n't be remarked upon." Passing his handkerchief over his face, which was bathed in perspiration, he added, "Though it will compromise me horribly."
"I swear, Maître Loriot, I don't know what you are talking about," exclaimed Michel.
"You don't understand what I mean, unfortunate young man? Don't you know that you are down on the list of suspected persons, and that a warrant has been issued for your arrest?"
"Well, let them arrest me!" cried Michel, impatiently, trying to turn the notary back toward the house into which Mary had disappeared.
"Arrest you! Hey! you take it gayly enough, Monsieur Michel. All right; call it philosophy. I ought to tell you that this same news, which seems to you so unimportant, has produced such a dreadful effect upon your mother that if chance had not thrown you in my way here I should have gone immediately to Légé to find you."
"My mother!" cried the young man, whom the notary was touching on his weak spot,--"what has happened to my mother?"
"Nothing has happened, Monsieur Michel. Thank Heaven, she is as well as persons can be when their minds are full of uneasiness and their hearts of grief. I must not conceal from you that that is your mother's condition at this moment."