"Read what he says."
"Let me see what he says," murmured M. de Rueille, putting on a look of resignation, as he began to read the long letter, in which the doctor advised sea-air as the best remedy for the child in his present nervous state.
"And so he is in a nervous state?" said M. de Rueille jeeringly; "and on account of this, which no one, by the bye, except you, has noticed, we are to leave Bracieux, where the lad is flourishing in this delightful fresh air—it is his native air, in fact—and we are to go and take up our abode at some stupid seaside place? Oh, no! You really do get hold of some ridiculous ideas sometimes."
He was still irritated after his discussion with Bijou, and the idea of going away from her now caused him to speak in a harsh, dry way. He tried to laugh, too, but his laugh sounded forced and hollow.
Bertrade looked at him as she said gently:
"I did not want to tell you the truth straight out; I hoped that you would guess it. Do you not guess?"
"No, not at all," he answered, with a vague feeling of uneasiness.
"Well, then, you were right just now; not only Marcel, and his brothers too, for that matter, are better at Bracieux than anywhere else, but he has nothing the matter with him."
As M. de Rueille looked surprised, she continued, in a tranquil way:
"It is Marcel's father who is not quite himself, who needs a change of air, and who will, I am sure, decide on having a change."