Eustacie at the first sound of his voice had dropped the bellows and flown to the bedside. “I’m here, mon cousin! ” she said, dropping on her knees beside him.
He put out his sound hand and took her chin in it, turning her face up that he might scrutinize it. “I’ve been wanting to look at you, my little cousin,” he said. A smile hovered round his mouth. “I thought as much! You’re as pretty as any picture.” He saw a tear sparkling on her cheek, and said at once: “What are you crying for? Don’t you like your romantic cousin Ludovic?”
“Oh yes, but I thought you were going to die!”
“Lord, no!” he said cheerfully. He let Nye put him back on to the pillows, and drew Eustacie’s hand to his lips, and kissed it. “You must promise me you’ll not go further with this trip of yours to London. It won’t do.”
“Oh no, of course I shall not! I shall stay with you.”
“Egad, I wish you could!” he said.
“But certainly I can. Why should I not?”
“ Les convenances,” murmured Ludovic.
“Ah bah, I do not regard them! When one is engaged upon an adventure it is not the time to be thinking of such things. Besides, if I do not stay with you, I shall have to marry Tristram, because I have lost both my bandboxes, which makes it impossible that I should any longer go to London.”
“Oh well, you can’t marry Tristram, that’s certain!” said Ludovic, apparently impressed by this reasoning.