This distrustful Clameran foresaw a thousand difficulties and counter-plots to be guarded against in his dealings with Raoul.
“Why,” he pondered, “did the villain assume this disguise? Why this alibi at Paris? Can he be laying a trap for me? It is true that I have a hold upon him; but then I am completely at his mercy. Those accursed letters which I have written to him, while here, are so many proofs against me. Can he be thinking of cutting loose from me, and making off with all the profits of our enterprise?”
Louis never once during the night closed his eyes; but by daybreak he had fully made up his mind how to act, and with feverish impatience waited for evening to come, to communicate his views with Raoul.
His anxiety made him so restless that the unobserving Gaston finally noticed it, and asked him what the matter was; if he was sick, or troubled about anything.
At last evening came, and, at the appointed hour, Louis went to the field where they had met the night previous, and found Raoul lying on the grass smoking a fragrant cigar, as if he had no other object in life except to blow little clouds of smoke in the air, and count the stars in the clear sky above him.
“Well?” he carelessly said, as Louis approached, “have you decided upon anything?”
“Yes. I have two projects, either of which would probably accomplish our object.”
“I am listening.”
Louis was silently thoughtful for a minute, as if arranging his thoughts so as to present them as clearly and briefly as possible.
“My first plan,” he began, “depends upon your approval. What would you say, if I proposed to you to renounce the affair altogether?”