"And from whom did he obtain this interesting explanation? from the maid-servant, doubtless?"
"No, monsieur le marquis. The servant never mentions you any more than the master does. What I have told you is the story generally believed among the peasants."
"And the basis of it is true," rejoined Monsieur de Boisguilbault, after a long pause, which seemed to restore his tranquillity entirely. "Why should you be surprised, Emile? Don't you know that it only takes a drop of water to make a lake overflow?"
"But if your lake of bitterness was filled with such drops of water only, how can I fail to be surprised by your sensitiveness? I can discover no other fault in Monsieur de Châteaubrun than constant inertia and heedlessness. If it was a series of absent-minded freaks and gaucheries that made his presence insupportable to you, I must say that I do not recognize your accustomed good judgment and tolerant spirit. I, whom you often call a volcano in eruption, should have been more patient than you, for Monsieur Antoine's fits of abstraction amuse me rather than irritate me, and I see in them a proof of his openness of heart and the artlessness of his mind."
"Emile, Emile, you are not qualified to judge of such matters," rejoined Monsieur de Boisguilbault with an embarrassed air. "I am very absent-minded myself, and I suffer from my own mistakes. Those of other people are evidently more than I can stand, you see. Affection lives only upon contrasts, they say. Two deaf or two blind men are sadly bored together. In short, I was tired of that man! say no more to me about him."
"I cannot believe that prohibition is intended seriously. O my noble-hearted friend, turn your wrath upon me alone; if I insist; but it is impossible for me to avoid seeing that this rupture is one of the principal causes of your sadness. At the bottom of your heart you reproach yourself with it as an act of injustice; and who can say that it is not the only source of your misanthropy? We find it difficult to tolerate other men when there is in the depths of our minds something for which we cannot give ourselves absolution. I believe, and I dare to tell you, that you would be comforted if you should repair the injury which you inflicted on one of your fellow-men so many years ago."
"The injury I inflicted on him? What injury, pray? What revenge did I take on him? to whom did I ever say an unkind word of him? to whom have I complained? what do you yourself know of my inmost feelings toward him? The miserable fellow had better hold his peace! he will commit a great sin if he complains of my conduct."
"He does not complain of it, monsieur le marquis, but he deplores the loss of your friendship. That regret disturbs his sleep and sometimes obscures the serenity of his amiable and resigned heart. He does not of his own accord mention your name, but if anybody mentions it in his presence, he speaks of you in the highest terms and his eyes fill with tears. And then, too, there is some one very near to him who suffers even more than himself in his sorrow, some one who respects you, who fears you and who dares not implore you, but whose affection and gratitude would be a blessing in your loneliness and a support in your old age."
"What do you mean, Emile?" said the marquis, painfully affected. "Are you speaking of yourself? Does your friendship for me depend upon that condition? That would be very cruel on your part."
"There is no question of me in this matter," Emile replied. "My attachment to you is too profound, and my sympathy too instinctive for me to put any price on them. I am speaking of some one who knows you only through me, but who had already divined your character and who does full justice to your noble qualities; of a person a thousand times more estimable than I, whom you would love with a father's affection if you knew her; in a word, I am speaking of an angel, of Mademoiselle Gilberte de Châteaubrun."