"Will you be kind enough to tell me your master's name?" asked the young woman.
"M. le Marquis de Pont Brillant, madame," replied the groom, with a strong English accent.
Then seeing that his master had started on a brisk trot, the lad did the same.
"Did your hear that, Frederick?" asked Marie, turning to her son. "That was the young Marquis de Pont Brillant. Is he not charming? It is pleasant to see such a worthy representative of rank and fortune, is it not, my son? To be such a high and mighty personage, and so perfectly polite and well-bred, is certainly a charming combination. But why do you not answer me, Frederick? What is the matter, Frederick?" added Madame Bastien, suddenly becoming uneasy.
"There is nothing the matter with me, mother," was the cold reply.
"But there must be. Your face looks so different from what it did a moment ago. You must be suffering, and, great Heavens, how pale you are!"
"The sun has disappeared behind the clouds again, and I am cold!"
"Then let us hasten back,—let us hasten back at once! Heaven grant the improvement you spoke of just now may continue."
"I doubt it very much, mother."
"How despondently you speak."