"You told me all you wished to do—that is well; but leaving out of the question the fraternal friendship that attaches us, and which, however powerful it may be, cannot to my mind account for your settled determination to find me again, you have not told me for what purpose you sought me so obstinately."
The count sprang up, and his eye flashed.
"Have you not guessed it, Valentine?"
"No!"
The count let his head fall, and for a few moments the conversation was again interrupted.
"You are right, Valentine: better finish at once, and never return to the subject again; besides, you know as well as I what I wish to say," the count replied, with the accent of a man whose mind is made up.
"Perhaps so," the hunter said laconically.
"Come, come, I am not an ass; and on the morning of that day when you asked a shelter at my bivouac, you understood me at the first word I let fall."
"It is possible," Valentine said imperturbably; "still, as I have no pretence to the art of divination, be good enough to explain yourself clearly and categorically."
"You insist on it?"