“Besides,” said Toto, still rubbing his cheek softly against the fur, a caress which Helen took to herself, “I feel that I—I want to protect someone, to feed them and work for them, and I haven’t anyone to—protect, for everyone I know is so rich.”
Helen’s eyes became dim. She was just about to say something hopeful in reply, when the old Marquis entered the room, jubilant like a schoolboy going to a treat.
“Now good-by,” said Helen, pressing Toto’s hand. “No, don’t come with me; I’ll find my way. Good-by, M. le Marquis;” and she vanished to say good-by to her hostess and find her coachman, who for the last two hours had been outside shivering in the cold April evening.
As Toto and his companion passed the drawing-room door, the Princesse appeared for a moment and drew the old fellow aside.
“Be sure and take care of my boy, Marquis, and give him good advice.”
“Princesse, be assured,” replied the gentleman of the old school, placing his hand upon his heart, “I will give him good advice; and,” he whispered, “it is all right in that quarter. She called him a genius, and that tickles a young man’s vanity, and I am almost sure kisses passed between them during my absence from the room. I am not a bad judge of these affairs, and I predict——”
He nodded mysteriously, and the Princesse de Cammora smiled under her paint and powder the smile of the happy mother.