Chapter Eighteen.
A Different Standpoint.
In his present mood Léon would have avoided any visitor, and M. Georges perhaps most of all; for to go over the estates, point out improvements and changes, and listen to the cautious encouraging admiration of his guest was almost unendurable. He had fallen upon him by chance, running down the stairs from his mother’s room just as a parley with M. Georges was being held at the door, and the kindliness of his nature prevented him from shaking him off, as he longed to do. But he hailed his sister as a means of escape, and though it was contrary to all etiquette to leave her to entertain him unassisted, this was an hour of anguish, in which everything not immediately connected with the matter in hand sank to insignificance. To Claire, too, under the exhaustion of her passion and her fears, the sight of M. Georges’s quiet, every-day respectful face gave an immediate and pleasurable sense of repose; and she was not sorry to second her brother when he explained that Mme. de Beaudrillart was ailing, that he himself had a pressing engagement, and that therefore he would ask his sister to go over the place, and show M. Georges anything that he would like to see.
“Mademoiselle will indeed do me too much honour,” murmured M. Georges, blushing, and clasping his straw hat and bowing to the ground. “If it is an inconvenience, permit me to choose some other time.”
“No, no!” cried Léon, hastily but kindly, for his heart had always reproached him with his treatment of his intendant, “you have had a long walk, and must certainly see what you came to see. Claire, be sure to show Monsieur Georges the new presses and the rick-yard.”
He waved his hand and went away. M. Georges, who was gazing after him, ventured to remark that monsieur le baron did not look so well as he had hoped to find him.
“No,” said Claire, abruptly; “he has his troubles. Who has not?”
“Ah, mademoiselle,” said M. Georges, simply, “I hoped that the troubles of Poissy were over.”