‘A sorry one, I fear, mademoiselle,’ interposed he, with a bow. ‘But I believe there are few circumstances in life where people are more willing to endure sacrifices.’
‘Then monsieur has explained to you our position?’ said Laura, half blushing at the absurdity of the adventure.
‘Everything, my dear young lady—everything. Don’t let the thought give you any uneasiness, however. I listen to stranger stories every day.
‘Taste that Haut-Brion, père,’ said I, wishing to give the conversation a turn, as I saw Laura felt uncomfortable, ‘and give me your opinion of it. To my judgment it seems excellent.’
‘And your judgment is unimpeachable in more respects than that,’ said the père, with a significant look, which fortunately was not seen by mademoiselle.
Confound him, said I to myself; I must try another tack. ‘We were remarking, Père José, as we came along that very picturesque river, the Château de Bouvigne; a fine thing in its time, it must have been.’
‘You know the story, I suppose?’ said the père.
‘Mademoiselle was relating it to me on the way, and indeed I am most anxious to hear the dénouement.’
‘It was a sad one,’ said he slowly. ‘I’ll show you the spot where Henri fell—the stone that marks the place.’
‘Oh, Père José,’ said Laura, ‘I must stop you—indeed I must—or the whole interest of my narrative will be ruined. You forget that monsieur has not heard the tale out.’