When Madame Fromont appeared, Risler smiled sadly and shook his head.
“I thought that you would prefer to come down in his place; but you are not the one with whom I have to deal. It is absolutely necessary that I should see Georges and talk with him. We have paid the notes that fell due this morning; the crisis has passed; but we must come to an understanding about many matters.”
“Risler, my friend, I beg you to wait a little longer.”
“Why, Madame Chorche, there’s not a minute to lose. Oh! I suspect that you fear I may give way to an outbreak of anger. Have no fear—let him have no fear. You know what I told you, that the honor of the house of Fromont is to be assured before my own. I have endangered it by my fault. First of all, I must repair the evil I have done or allowed to be done.”
“Your conduct toward us is worthy of all admiration, my good Risler; I know it well.”
“Oh! Madame, if you could see him! he’s a saint,” said poor Sigismond, who, not daring to speak to his friend, was determined at all events to express his remorse.
“But aren’t you afraid?” continued Claire. “Human endurance has its limits. It may be that in presence of the man who has injured you so—”
Risler took her hands, gazed into her eyes with grave admiration, and said:
“You dear creature, who speak of nothing but the injury done to me! Do you not know that I hate him as bitterly for his falseness to you? But nothing of that sort has any existence for me at this moment. You see in me simply a business man who wishes to have an understanding with his partner for the good of the firm. So let him come down without the slightest fear, and if you dread any outbreak on my part, stay here with us. I shall need only to look at my old master’s daughter to be reminded of my promise and my duty.”
“I trust you, my friend,” said Claire; and she went up to bring her husband.