He stepped forward and laid it on the table without a remark. Ratoneau, watching him keenly, smiled, and held out the letter.
"A private letter from Monsieur le Préfet? I do not read it," said Georges, shortly.
"As you please, my friend," said Ratoneau. "I only show you these things for the satisfaction of Madame la Comtesse. Monsieur Urbain de la Marinière may be interested, too. The letter mentions my distinguished claims on His Majesty, and suggests me as a husband for mademoiselle. That is all. I think it will be effectual. But now, monsieur, you have not answered my little question about your cousin Angelot. He is in love with your sister, n'est-ce pas?"
"As you put it so, monsieur, I think it is not unlikely," said Georges. "But what does that signify? Every one knows it is an impossibility, even himself, ambitious fool as he may be."
"And the young lady?" said Ratoneau, his face darkening.
"My mother answers for her," Georges answered coldly, and bowed himself out.
He had information enough to carry back to his mother.
He was not too comfortable in his mind, having ideas of honour, at the unscrupulous doings by which Hélène's future husband was protecting his own interests and bringing his marriage about. He rather wished, though he worshipped power, that this powerful General had been a different sort of man.
"Still he may make her a good husband," he thought. "He is jealous already."
He rode across the square, gay and stately in his Chasseur uniform, and dismounted at the Prefecture to leave his card and to enquire for Monsieur de Mauves.