Mario, bewildered and wounded, did not turn. It seemed as if he were asleep; the Moor alone saw that he was weeping; but the marquis rose and retorted with more animation than he usually displayed:
"I will wager, my dear neighbor, that your raillery is intended as a rebuke for our silence, so we will break it. You will forgive me, Guillaume; for, as surely as heaven is above us, I esteem you the best and most loyal man in the world, worthy in every respect to be our Lauriane's happy husband. But, with no desire to injure you in her eyes, I hereby declare that my suit preceded yours, and that I was encouraged by her and her father when I urged my suit."
"You, cousin?" exclaimed Guillaume in amazement.
"Yes, I," replied Bois-Doré, "as uncle, guardian and father by adoption of Mario de Bois-Doré here present."
"Here present? Nay," said Monsieur de Beuvre, still laughing, "for he is sleeping the sleep of innocence."
"As a child should do!" added Guillaume gently.
"I am not asleep!" cried Mario, rushing into his father's arms, and revealing his face all discolored with the sobs he had stifled in his hands.
"Hoity-toity!" said Monsieur de Beuvre, "he says that with his eyes half-closed with sleep!"
"Nay," rejoined the marquis, scrutinizing his child's face, "with his eyes inflamed with tears!"
Lauriane started; Mario's grief reminded her of the scene in the labyrinth, and brought before her mind once more the apprehensions she had forgotten. The child's tears pained her deeply, and Mercedes's glance disturbed her like a reproach.