“Does she want money? Let her have it,” said Léon, very quickly. “I have never begrudged money for the Church or the poor, have I?”
“Never,” returned his wife with surprise. “But this is an invitation to be given. The bishop is coming to open the new Home at Douay, and Félicie longs that you should ask him here. I think she is right, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, certainly ask him.” He spoke with the same almost feverish haste. “When is it? I will write.”
“Make Félicie happy by letting her write in your name. She is dreadfully afraid that you may omit some formality.” She had expected more difficulty, for the young baron was averse to giving ceremonious invitations. The presence of strangers bored him, and he had sometimes almost vexed his mother by his dislike to exercising the hospitality which she considered due to his position. But it was quite true that he never refused and seldom laughed at Félicie’s appeals for money, although Nathalie fancied they must often have seemed to him, as to her, to be rather fanciful than necessary. Now he was so desirous to carry out his sister’s wishes that he begged her to go at once to set her mind at rest.
Félicie was sitting on a projecting step watching a lizard; she jumped up and came towards Nathalie, all her little features astir with anxiety.
“Well?” she called out.
“Léon is quite ready,” said Mme. Léon, happily. “Write your letter, and he will copy it, or do anything you like.”
“Thanks!” cried Félicie, clasping her hands rapturously. “You were so long that I trembled.”
“Oh, he did not even hesitate, but there was something else which had to be discussed first.”
“Yes, mamma said he was annoyed about a letter, but I forgot to tell you. Do you know you are a strange person? You look quite happy over monseigneur’s coming.”