But he swore that this chastisement was only deferred—that it should surely come.
And it was not mere angry boasting. This young man, though so modest and so gentle in manner, had a heart that was inaccessible to fear. His beautiful, dark eyes, which had the trembling timidity of the eyes of a young girl, met the gaze of an enemy without flinching.
When M. Lacheneur had repeated the last words which he had addressed to the Duc de Sairmeuse, M. d’Escorval offered him his hand.
“I have told you already that I was your friend,” he said, in a voice faltering with emotion; “but I must tell you to-day that I am proud of having such a friend as you.”
The unfortunate man trembled at the touch of that loyal hand which clasped his so warmly, and his face betrayed an ineffable satisfaction.
“If my father had not returned it,” murmured the obstinate Marie-Anne, “my father would have been an unfaithful guardian—a thief. He has done only his duty.”
M. d’Escorval turned to the young girl, a little surprised.
“You speak the truth, Mademoiselle,” he said, reproachfully; “but when you are as old as I am, and have had my experience, you will know that the accomplishment of a duty is, under certain circumstances, a heroism of which few persons are capable.”
M. Lacheneur turned to his friend.
“Ah! your words do me good, Monsieur,” said he. “Now, I am content with what I have done.”