As this pantomimic performance made it necessary for the worthy captain to put his hand to his collar quite often, Stephanette whispered to him, with the most innocent tone in the world, “Are you suffering from a sore throat, M. Luquin?”
These words of the mischievous girl, while they excited the captain’s anger, seemed also to arouse Honorât from the astonishment produced by the strange reception of his betrothed.
He approached her, and said: “I am just from Marseilles, Reine, and I must speak to you on some very serious things concerning your father. Trinquetaille comes from La Ciotat and tells me that the affair of the fishery is threatening; the citizens seem to be irritated. In order to talk of all this we must be alone.”
At these words Reine raised her face bathed with tears, and with a sign ordered Stephanette to go out The girl obeyed, casting a sad look at her mistress.
Trinquetaille followed his betrothed with a very ungracious air, and the Bohemian accompanied them.
“Reine, in the name of Heaven, what is the matter with you?” cried Honorât, as soon as he was alone with Mlle, des Anbiez.
“Nothing,—nothing is the matter with me, my friend.”
“But you are weeping, your face is all tear-stained. What has happened, pray?”
“Nothing, I tell you,—mere childishness. The Bohemian sang a romance of his country for us; it was pathetic, and I allowed myself to be affected by it. But do not let us talk of this nonsense; let us talk of father. Is there any danger? Has his angry treatment of the recorder irritated the marshal? And what does Luquin say about the fishery? Honorât! Honorât! do answer me!”
“Listen to me, Reine; although those matters have assumed a grave, if not a dangerous aspect, let me first speak of what is above everything else,—my love for you.”