Yet she was happy. The bare shadow of doubt had not once fluttered across her mind. She could conceive that there were difficulties in the case, and that certain unfortunate circumstances might be difficult to get over; she had realised that M. Rodoin was not so sanguine at the end of his interview as at the beginning, and that Maître Barraud was taciturn; but her own conviction stood like a rock, and wanted no support, was troubled by no inconsistencies. And it was bliss to feel herself no longer shut out. Before, when Léon was in perplexity or trouble, he turned to his mother; now he turned to her. Perhaps he felt the influence of her implicit faith, a sun in which he might still plume himself. Presently he joined her.
“I saw your white flag from the bank. Many fish caught!” Raoul was too much absorbed to answer, and his father watched him with amusement. “Upon my word, the monkey has such a good idea of throwing his line that I must get him a proper rod. I have just been talking to Jacques, and he tells me they begin the vintage to-morrow.”
“And the weather so superb! It will be a good year for us all,” said Nathalie.
“Oh, excellent! If only I had not this confounded business hanging over my head!”
“Let us hope it will soon be ended.” She slipped her hand into his. “I think Monsieur Rodoin quite understood that there should be no delay, but perhaps you will have to go up again soon and hurry them.”
“Not without you,” he said, quickly. Her heart bounded, and she sent him a smile for an answer. “The nuisance is, having to give evidence one’s self.”
“Oh, you will be glad to do that,” she said, comfortingly. “No one can explain it all so well.”
“That’s very fine!”—he spoke with irritation. “Who can explain, when those fellows are at one all round with their questions!”
“What can they bring out but the truth!” said Nathalie. “And the more of that the better.”
“It might go against me,” he hazarded.