The marquis asked him divers other questions to which he did not reply, although he seemed, by the sweet and melting glance he turned upon him, to apologize furtively for his discourtesy.
"It is my opinion, friend Adamas, that you exaggerated a trifle when you declared that this boy spoke our language fluently," said the marquis. "It is true that his pronunciation is very good, and that he says several words without much foreign accent; but I fancy that that is all he knows. As you know Spanish so well—for my part, I confess that I know very little of it—make him explain himself."
"Useless, monsieur le marquis," said Adamas, not at all disconcerted, "I give you my word that the little rascal speaks French like a clerk; but he is frightened in your presence, that's the whole story."
"No, indeed!" rejoined the marquis; "he's a little lion and afraid of nothing. He came out of the water laughing as heartily as when he went in, and he must see that we are kind-hearted people."
Mario seemed to understand perfectly; for his affectionate eye said yes, while the Moorish woman's intelligent and timid eyes, resting upon D'Alvimar, seemed to say no, so far as she was concerned.
"Come, come," continued worthy Monsieur Sylvain, taking Mario between his legs again, "I propose that we shall be good friends. I love children and this one attracts me. Tell me, Master Jovelin, isn't it true that that face was not made to deceive, and that that innocent glance goes straight to the heart? There is some mystery under all this, and I propose to solve it. Listen, Master Mario, if you answer me truthfully, I will give you—What would you like me to give you?"
The child, obeying the artless impulse of his age, pounced upon Fleurial, the beautiful little white dog which never left its master's chair when he was seated.
It seemed that Mario was determined to risk everything to possess the creature; but another glance from Mercedes warned him to restrain himself, and he replaced the little dog on the marquis's knees, to the great satisfaction of the latter, who had feared for a moment that he had gone too far.
The child sadly shook his head and made a sign that he wanted nothing.
Thus far D'Alvimar had said nothing; as he recited his prayer after the scene at the moat, he had reviewed rapidly, but with unerring accuracy, all the events of his life. Nothing had come to his memory which could have any connection, direct or indirect, with a woman and child in the situation of these two.