Marie and Madame Kerouët stared at me with astonishment, but I continued: "Listen to me, you, Madame Kerouët, and you, Marie. Allow me to receive M. Duvallon; I will take it upon myself to make him listen to reason. When do you expect him to arrive?"
"If he comes when he says he will, it will be by the diligence from Bourges. He will get here at three o'clock," said Madame Kerouët.
"Make him no promises, but send him to me, and let us hope for the best."
And on a signal from Marie I went out.
After awhile, at five o'clock, I heard the noise of a carriole in the courtyard of the château. I could not repress an exclamation of anger. I felt the blood rush to my face, and my temples throb violently.
M. Duvallon was ushered in.
I beheld a robust man of great height, apparently about sixty years of age. His complexion was high-coloured, his manner impertinent, vulgar, but self-satisfied. He was dressed like a Frenchman on a journey, that is to say, shabbily.
I made him a sign to be seated, and he sat down.
"Monsieur," said I to him, "I beg your pardon for any trouble I may have given you, but I am charged by Madame Kerouët, who leases one of my farms, and who has some confidence in me—"
"Parbleu! her niece has confidence in you, too, and a great deal too much of it!" cried out the man, rudely interrupting me.