“But this will never bring me to England.”
“What need to go there? Why not stay in France? Was it not a pleasanter country and a better climate? At all events, what urgent haste was there? Would not to-morrow serve as well as to-day?”
These and such-like arguments were showered upon me, and not a little aided by many little coquetries of look and gesture.
“One thing is quite certain,” said Dubos: “it is now three,—the bureau closes at four o'clock; and if you know of any one in Havre who will be your sponsor, the sooner you find him the better.”
This speech was uttered with so much gravity that it completely mystified me; nor did the next remark serve greatly to elucidate matters, as his wife said she hoped “I 'd have a pleasant voyage.” After enjoying my astonished and puzzled look for a second or two, they both burst into a roar of laughter.
“Don't you see, Bernard,” said the man, “that you have no other acquaintance in the city than ourselves; and if we have a fancy for your company, and do not care to part with it, the option is with us?”
“But if you really do feel an interest for me, you would befriend me,” said I. “Is not that so?”
“And so I 'm ready to do,” said he, rising. “Say the word, and I 'll go with you this moment to the commissary.”
I arose too. Already the syllables were on my lips, when the sudden thought flashed across me: Whither am I hurrying, and for what? Was I returning to home and family and country? Was I going back to kind and loving friends, whose hearts were yearning for my coming? I paused, and at the same instant the laughing eyes of the young Frenchwoman seemed to read my embarrassment.
“Well,” cried Dubos, “how is it to be?”