The baroness rose, too much the woman to know how to resist the generous dictates of her heart.
“And I, also, Monsieur Lacheneur,” she said, “desire to press your hand. I wish to tell you that I esteem you as much as I despise the ingrates who have sought to humiliate you, when they should have fallen at your feet. They are heartless monsters, the like of whom certainly cannot be found upon the earth.”
“Alas!” sighed the baron, “the allies have brought back others who, like these men, think the world created exclusively for their benefit.”
“And these people wish to be our masters,” growled Lacheneur.
By some strange fatality no one chanced to hear the remark made by M. Lacheneur. Had they overheard and questioned him, he would probably have disclosed some of the projects which were as yet in embryo in his own mind; and in that case what disastrous consequences might have been averted.
M. d’Escorval had regained his usual coolness.
“Now, my dear friend,” he inquired, “what course do you propose to pursue with these members of the Sairmeuse family?”
“They will hear nothing more from me—for some time, at least.”
“What! Shall you not claim the ten thousand francs that they owe you?”
“I shall ask them for nothing.”