"I, madame?" asked Létorière, with angelic simplicity, "what reputation?"
The councillor's wife was confounded; she could easily understand that stories had been exaggerated; but that a youth of such rare candor, and of such a pious education, could pass for an heartless seducer, was beyond her comprehension.
"Have you no relative of your name at the French court?" she asked, anxiously.
"No, madame." . . .
"It is plain that the German princes have spread these injurious reports about their adversary," thought Martha. "But tell me, what steps have you taken hitherto?"
"Alas! most useless ones, madame. . . . I went first to the castle of the Baron of Henferester." . . .
"Good heavens! poor child, did you venture into the den of that frightful Polyphemus?"
"Yes, madame; oh, he frightened me so! And then . . ."
"Go on, go on! Tell me all; and in order to put you at your ease, I will tell you that my husband and myself both cordially detest the baron."
"I did not know that, madame; that is why I feared . . . to tell you . . ."