Ernest’s lip curled slightly, for his pride was touched.
“I could give up many dreams of the future,” said he, “to hear Madame de Ventadour revoke that sentiment.”
“We have outridden our companions, Mr. Maltravers,” said Valerie, coldly, and she reined in her horse. “Ah, Mr. Ferrers,” she continued, as Lumley and the handsome German baron now joined her, “you are too gallant; I see you imply a delicate compliment to my horsemanship, when you wish me to believe you cannot keep up with me: Mr. Maltravers is not so polite.”
“Nay,” returned Ferrers, who rarely threw away a compliment without a satisfactory return, “Nay, you and Maltravers appeared lost among the old Romans; and our friend the baron took that opportunity to tell me of all the ladies who adored him.”
“Ah, Monsieur Ferrare, que vous etes malin!” said Schomberg, looking very much confused.
“Malin! no; I spoke from no envy: I never was adored, thank Heaven! What a bore it must be!”
“I congratulate you on the sympathy between yourself and Ferrers,” whispered Maltravers to Valerie.
Valerie laughed; but during the rest of the excursion she remained thoughtful and absent, and for some days their rides were discontinued. Madame de Ventadour was not well.