‘Do you bring tidings from M. le Marquis?’ inquired my husband, who had recognized our livery.
‘Ah! I have deceived you likewise, and no wonder, for I should not have known you, Philippe,’ cried the new comer.
‘Armand d’Aubepine! Impossible! I thought your child was a girl,’ exclaimed my husband.
‘And am I to waste my life and grow old ingloriously on that account?’ demanded the youth, who had by this time come up to our rooms.
‘Welcome, then, my brother,’ said my husband a little gravely, as I thought. ‘My love,’ he added, turning to me, ‘let me present to you my brother-in-law, the Chevalier d’Aubepine.’
With infinite grace the Chevalier put a knee to the ground, and kissed my hand.
‘Madame will be good enough to excuse my present appearance,’ he said, ‘in consideration of its being the only means by which I could put myself on the path of honour.’
‘It is then an evasion?’ said my husband gravely.
‘My dear Viscount, do not give yourself the airs of a patriarch. They do not suit with your one-and-twenty years, even though you are the model of husbands. Tell me, where is your hero?’
‘The Duke? He is before Thionville.’