“That you will continue to live here, with me, as in your father’s time.”
Claudet was nearly overcome by this last suggestion, but a lingering feeling of doubt and a kind of innate pride prevented him from giving way, and arrested the expression of gratitude upon his lips.
“What you propose is very generous, Monsieur,” said he, “but you have not thought much about it, and later you might regret it. If I were to stay here, I should be a restraint upon you—”
“On the contrary, you would be rendering me a service, for I feel myself incapable of managing the property,” replied Julien, earnestly. Then, becoming more confidential as his conscience was relieved of its burden, he continued, pleasantly: “You see I am not vain about admitting the fact. Come, cousin, don’t be more proud than I am. Accept freely what I offer with hearty goodwill!”
As he concluded these words, he felt his hand seized, and affectionately pressed in a strong, robust grip.
“You are a true de Buxieres!” exclaimed Claudet, choking with emotion. “I accept—thanks—but, what have I to give you in exchange?—nothing but my friendship; but that will be as firm as my grip, and will last all my life.”