An hour later Alice de Bréville was speeding back to her château; Blondel and his mare were also clattering homeward, for he had still an article to finish before daylight. I had just bid the marquis and the marquise good night when Tanrade, who was about to follow, suddenly turned and called me aside in the shadow of the gateway. What he said to me made my heart leap. His eyes were shining with a strange light; his hands, gripping me by both shoulders, trembled.
"It is true," he repeated. "Don't tell me I am dreaming, old friend. Yes, it is true. Alice—yes, it is Alice. Come, a glass of wine! I feel faint—and happy!"
We went back to the dying fire, and I believe he heard all my congratulations, though I am not sure. He seemed in a dream.
When he had gone Suzette lighted my candle.
"Suzette," I said, "your dinner was a success."
"Ah, but I am content, monsieur. Mon Dieu, but I do love to cook!"
"Come, Miquette! It's past your bedtime, you adorable egoist."
"Bonsoir, Suzette."
"Bonsoir, monsieur."