(13)
Laurent was in crazy spirits during the meal which followed at Mme Leblanc's. Particularly did the good M. Perrelet appreciate his sallies; and even de Fresne, who made the fourth, relaxed into amusement. "I shall no longer be a 'guest' at that disgusting convent; to-night we shall both be M. d'Andigné's 'prisoners.'—Do you imagine, Aymar, that old de Noirlieu will be there—a 'prisoner,' too? I wish Guitton cadet could be . . . as a footman! I shall go and serenade him with the news this afternoon; and I shall write to Rigault, and he can tell them all at Arbelles. Oh, I forgot, Arbelles is evacuated."
"And in any case," observed Aymar, "they would only say that Saint Sebastian——"
Laurent dropped his knife and fork. His jaw dropped also. "Where on earth . . . I always hoped that you never knew. . . ."
"My dear Laurent," replied L'Oiseleur, smiling, "your walks on the terrace did not give you the monopoly of the bons mots of Arbelles. I also had the privilege of hearing them during my one visit to the library."
"Of course," said Laurent, when he had got over this, "it was really M. Perrelet who turned the scale, not M. d'Andigné at all. Imagine being able to hurl about missiles like 'ecchymosis' and 'haemorrhage'! I am considering adopting the first as an oath."
"I think," observed M. Perrelet, wiping his eyes (for his was not an exacting sense of humour), "that you had better go and work this off outside, my boy. I cannot allow you to remain in the house, because Aymar" (he made no bones about the Christian name) "is going to bed this afternoon so as to be in trim for the evening."
So a little later Aymar, lying on his bed, looked up at the young man and the old and remarked that they were both of them nothing but tyrants at bottom, and that when they got together one was simply crushed. "Not," he added, shutting his eyes, "that the process is altogether repugnant."
"I wish, my poor boy," said M. Perrelet softly, "that I had been there to tyrannize over this!" And he gently drew his hand down his right arm. Before Aymar could answer he had left the little room.
Laurent stood a moment longer. Then he suddenly dropped on his knees and hid his face against the bed.