"Hector! Hector!"
He jumped up at a bound, concealed the pistol, and looked about. A man was running down the embankment toward him with outstretched arms. This was a man of his own age, rather stout, but well shaped, with a fine open face and, large black eyes in which one read frankness and good-nature; one of those men who are sympathetic at first sight, whom one loves on a week's acquaintance.
Hector recognized him. It was his oldest friend, a college mate; they had once been very intimate, but the count not finding the other fast enough for him, had little by little dropped his intimacy, and had now lost sight of him for two years.
"Sauvresy!" he exclaimed, stupefied.
"Yes," said the young man, hot, and out of breath, "I've been watching you the last two minutes; what were you doing here?"
"Why—nothing."
"How! What they told me at your house this morning was true, then! I went there."
"What did they say?"
"That nobody knew what had become of you, and that you declared to Jenny when you left her the night before that you were going to blow your brains out. The papers have already announced your death, with details."
This news seemed to have a great effect on the count.