Behind the shrouding hands the girl was quietly weeping. Mme de Courtomer rose and went to the window and stood there thinking. Since Avoye de Villecresne knew nothing of this business at Aurannes—which in itself was strange—it could not have been anxiety as to the verdict which had brought her here in the hope of seeing Laurent. It must just have been hunger for some tidings of the lover of whom, now, she knew nothing. Since his friend might know, she had come, a suppliant, for some crumb of information—to be presented with this! Poor child, poor child!
In a little Virginia de Courtomer became aware that her visitor had regained command of herself, and she came back to her place. "I cannot blame myself enough, Madame," she said, as she sat down again, "for having inadvertently thrown away, as it were, M. de la Rocheterie's consideration for your feelings. I shall have to make my peace with him!" she added more lightly.
Avoye's face was suddenly flooded with colour. "What! are you expecting him here, Madame?"
"Oh, no," responded Mme de Courtomer instantly. "No, I wish I were. I share my son's admiration, you know, for M. de la Rocheterie. At my age, fortunately, one can confess to a penchant for a young man. My son's devotion to your cousin, which dated, I think, from the first moment he set eyes on him, is quite comprehensible to me. I am glad he is with him now—when no woman can be."
"It is not the first time," murmured Avoye, and she fixed her eyes on Laurent's miniature. "What would Aymar have done there in captivity without your son? He would have died. Oh, Madame, he has told me . . . of that wonderful devotion, that never tired . . . night after night, day after day, not only when he was so near death, but for weeks afterwards, and he—your son—unused to anything of the kind. . . ."
"I have found once or twice in my life, Madame," said Virginia de Courtomer softly, "that a man can be tenderer than a woman on occasions. I like to think that my Laurent belongs to that company."
But Avoye had caught her handkerchief to her mouth and looked away. "Good gracious," thought her hostess, "was ever any one such a blunderer as I this afternoon? She must think that I am contrasting her behaviour over the whole business with Laurent's . . . which was not in the least my intention."
Not to leave time for this reflection to sink in she hurried on, harking back to her visitor's question of a little while ago. "No, I expect M. de la Rocheterie is on his way back to Sessignes now, with this unfortunate affair no more than a bad memory."
"Did M. de Courtomer say that my cousin intended to return there if the . . . verdict was favourable?"
"No; I only assumed it, Madame, as the natural thing. There was no indication of his subsequent plans, I believe, in his letter to my son."