"I wonder how you are sure of that?" thought Laurent, looking after his ascending figure—wondering, also, despite himself, how that one-sided love-scene had ended.
Déjeuner then followed, not favoured by the presence of Mme de la Rocheterie, who, being slightly indisposed, was keeping her room. It might have gone better had she been there, though to be sure there was nothing wrong with Mme de Morsan's self-possession. Aymar, who never addressed her, was steely, and, when the meal was over, became invisible. There seemed, however, no reason why Laurent should not go for a last ride on Hirondelle, and so, after bidding farewell to Mme de Morsan, who was leaving Sessignes at two o'clock, he departed.
(7)
It fell, therefore, to Avoye de Villecresne to entertain the guest for the last half-hour of her stay, after the latter had duly made her farewells to Mme de la Rocheterie upstairs. It was to be presumed that, whatever had taken place between them that morning (for Avoye could not be blind to his attitude at déjeuner) the master of the house would reappear in time to hand the departing visitor to her carriage. In the meantime, Mme de Morsan sat ready in the salon, arrayed in a Russian mantle of pale salmon-coloured cloth ornamented with a border of maroon velvet and white silk cord.
"He is indeed a fidus Achates, that young man," she observed of Laurent de Courtomer when the latter had taken his leave. "Pylades, Patroclus, and Euryalus all rolled into one. (Did you know I had so much classical lore? I must have imbibed it from poor Edouard.) But I think I could better describe M. de Courtomer as Sarrasin on two legs. I have seen him looking at Aymar with very much the same expression."
"We owe him more than we can ever repay," said Avoye. She hated discussing anybody she liked with Eulalie de Morsan.
"Yes, indeed you do," agreed that lady. "Nevertheless, it is dreadful to see our poor Aymar so changed."
Worst of all was it to discuss Aymar with her. "He is getting stronger," replied Avoye briefly.
"But, mon Dieu, what he must have suffered . . . in his pride!"
Avoye winced. "Yes, Pont-aux-Rochers was a terrible blow."