I never in my life saw anyone so fearfully excited as Auguste. He turned white as ashes, even to his very lips, while his eyes literally flashed fire, and his frame shivered as if he had been in an ague fit. “Il me le paiera!” he muttered between his hard-set teeth. “Il me le paiera, le scélérat! Ma pauvre soeur—ma pauvre petite Valerie!”
And then he shook the hand of Chavannes with the heartiest and warmest emotion. “I shall never forget this,” he said, in a thick, low voice; “never, never! From this time forth, de Chavannes, we are friends for ever. But I shall never, never, be able to repay you.”
“Nonsense, mon cher, nonsense,” replied Chavannes. “I did nothing—positively nothing at all. I should not have been a man, had I done otherwise.”
This had, however, no effect at all in stopping Auguste’s exclamations and professions of eternal gratitude; nor did he cease until Monsieur de Chavannes said quietly, “Well, well, if you will have it so, say no more about it; and one day or other I will ask a favour of you, which, if granted, will leave me your debtor.”
“If granted!—it is granted,” exclaimed Auguste, impetuously. “What is it?—name it—I say it is granted.”
“Don’t be rash, mon cher,” replied the Count, laughing; “it is no slight boon which I shall ask.”
“Do not be foolish, Auguste,” I interposed; “you are letting your feelings get the better of you, strangely; and, Caroline, if you do not tell the people to drive home, you will keep the Judge waiting dinner—a proceeding to which you know he is by no means partial.”
“You are right, as usual, Valerie; always thoughtful for other people. So we will go home.”
But, just as we were on the point of starting, the groom with the cockade, whom we had seen following Colonel Jervis, trotted up, and, touching his hat, asked, “I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but is any one of you the Count de Chavannes?”
“I am,” replied the Count; “what do you want with me, sir?”