"You would be terribly bored!" said the marquis, with a sigh which found, I know not how, the road to Emile's heart.
"Monsieur," he replied, with spontaneous cordiality, "I will come again and dine with you when you choose."
"To-morrow, then!" said Monsieur de Boisguilbault in a melancholy tone, which seemed desirous to contradict the heartiness of his invitation.
"To-morrow, so be it," rejoined the young man.
"Oh no! not to-morrow," said the marquis; "to-morrow will be Monday, a bad day for me. But Tuesday; will that suit you?"
Emile accepted with very good grace, but in his heart he was dismayed at the idea of a tête-à-tête of some hours with that dead man, and he regretted an outburst of compassion which he had been unable to resist.
Monsieur de Boisguilbault meanwhile seemed to lay aside his fear; he insisted upon escorting his visitor to the gate where he had tied his horse. "You have a pretty little animal there," he said, examining Corbeau with the eye of a connoisseur. "He's a Brenne, well-bred, strong and quiet. Are you a good horseman?"
"I have more experience and courage than skill," replied Emile; "I have never had time to learn equestrianism by rule, but I intend to do so as soon as I have a favorable opportunity."
"It is a noble and useful exercise," said the marquis; "if you care to come and see me now and then, I will place what little I know at your service."
Emile accepted the offer courteously, but he could not forbear a significant glance at the slender individual who put himself forward as a professor.