So, standing where he was, his eyes tight shut, he besought the leader of the heavenly cohorts to that end, concluding politely if mysteriously, "Perhaps I ought to thank you about Elspeth."
"I had better go back to Grandpapa?" he then suggested.
M. de Soucy nodded. "I will come with you," he said.
(4)
Anne-Hilarion had been gone for so short a time that he had not even been missed, for the domestics were still occupied about Elspeth's accident, and Mr. Elphinstone, though returned to the library, had not found the farewell letter. The only surprise, therefore, which the old gentleman showed was that his grandson should be accompanied by M. de Soucy. He got up from a drawing of one of the gates of Delhi that he was making for his memoirs, and welcomed the intruders.
"Anne has been paying me a visit," said the Frenchman. "He wanted to go to France again, but I have persuaded him to put it off for a little. Can I have a word alone with you, sir?"
"Did you not get my letter, Grandpapa?" broke in Anne-Hilarion, clinging to Mr. Elphinstone's hand. "I left it on the mantelpiece, behind the little heathen god. I did not run away, foi de gentilhomme!"
"Send him out of the room!" signalled the émigré. But Anne-Hilarion, having perceived his grandfather's occupation, was now in great spirits. "Let me look at the livre des Indes, Grandpapa!" he exclaimed. "I so much love the pictures. Faites-moi voir les éléphants!" And he jumped up and down, holding on to the arm of his grandfather's chair.
But the old man had followed M. de Soucy to the window.
"What is it, Monsieur?" he whispered. "Bad news from France?"