“She won’t be contented where she is—that’s quite certain; and—bah!—after all you can well afford to keep a mistress, or half a dozen or so for the matter of that; and you are quite justified in doing so. They are at times troublesome to a man, but one can’t have any pleasure in this world without its alloy. Send for her. Let her come over at once, Ethalwood, before I leave. Possibly I may be of service to you.”
“My dear De Monpres, you are as good as a father to me. I don’t know what I should have done without you.”
“Oh, you would have done well enough, I dare say,” observed the chevalier.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, we won’t dispute upon that subject. I am here enjoying your society and hospitality, and I don’t intend to leave you for the present. Certainly not, till I see you out of this little difficulty.”
“And how about the mountaineers? Did you see or hear anything of them after I took my departure?”
“I heard a good deal,” cried De Monpres, in a serious tone; “heard enough to fully comprehend that they intended to polish you off if a chance had been afforded them. Sacre, I shudder when I think of the bloodthirsty miscreants.”
“Ah, they meant mischief then?”
“Mon dieu yes.”
“But how did you know this?”