"Which you please, daughter," replied Walter de la Tremblade; "we have still half an hour."
"That will be enough," answered the Marchioness, rising: "and so, good-day, good brother Michael. Like all fools who meddle with what does not concern them, you will one day rue the mischief that you have now made."
"Never, Jacqueline," replied the Commander. "I am not so famous for scheming as you are; but, be you sure that, whatever you may be now plotting, I will find means to put it out of joint with plain honesty and truth, as I have done to-day. Farewell, brother Anthony," he continued; "let us not part bad friends; for what I have done, has been as much to save your honour as anything else."
He held out his hand as he spoke; but the Count put his behind his back, saying, "My honour can take care of itself, Michael; and I do not thank you for this insolent meddling."
"Poor man," said the Commander; and, turning abruptly away, he strode out of the hall, followed by Estoc.
CHAPTER XV.
There are dull pauses in human life when the mind, however anxious it may be to speed forward upon its active career, is forced by circumstances to halt and deal with minor things; as a traveller on foot, however eager he may be to hasten forward upon his way, is sometimes obliged to stop and take a small stone out of his shoe, lest it should impede the whole after part of his journey: and thus, though we would willingly go on with those in whom we are more interested, we must linger for a moment or two with the priest and Madame de Chazeul, in order to proceed more rapidly when we have related some things which, though not very entertaining, are absolutely necessary to the right understanding of this history.
The lady led the way to her own chamber, with a step she intended to be perfectly calm and tranquil, but which, by its occasional irregularity and sharp jerking movement, betrayed the agitated and angry feelings which she struggled to conceal. The priest followed, with his still, even pace, his large dark eyes as usual bent down, and not a trace of any emotion upon his countenance. He seemed, indeed, like a moving statue, to the countenance of which the sculptor had successfully endeavoured to give an expression of great thought, of mind, and equanimity, but not of feeling or emotion.
When they reached the lady's chamber, the Marchioness de Chazeul took a seat, and pointed to another, with a somewhat haughty wave of the hand; but father Walter sat down deliberately, and crossing one foot over the other, remained in an easy attitude waiting for Madame de Chazeul to begin, as if totally unconscious that there were any angry feelings in her bosom towards himself. He made no inquiry, even by a look, in regard to the nature of the communication which he was about to receive, but calmly bent his head a little forward as if to listen, and waited for her to begin.
"Well, Monsieur de la Tremblade," said the lady at length, "so you have thought fit to commence this system of sweet candour towards Monsieur de Montigni, and to tell him that he has a right to the estates."