But he looked cool enough, and greeted Denise with his usual leisurely, friendly bow. His manner conveyed, better than any words, that she need feel no uneasiness on his account, and could treat him literally at his word, as a friend.
“In order to tell you, with all reserve, the good news,” he continued.
“With all reserve!” echoed Mademoiselle Brun.
“Good news in a French newspaper, Mademoiselle—” And he finished with a gesture eloquent of the deepest distrust.
“I was wondering,” said Mademoiselle Brun, speaking slowly, and in a manner that demanded for the time the colonel's undivided attention, “whether our friend the Count de Vasselot could have been at Saarbrück.”
“The Count de Vasselot,” said Colonel Gilbert, with an air of friendly surprise. “Has he quitted his beloved château? He is so attached to that old house, you know.”
“He has joined his regiment,” replied Mademoiselle Brun, upon whom the burden of the conversation fell; for Denise had gone to the open window, and was closing the shutters against the sun.
“Ah! Then I can tell you that he was not at Saarbrück. The count's regiment is not in that part of the country. I was forgetting that he was a soldier. He is, by the way, your nearest neighbour.”
The colonel rose as he spoke, and went to the window—not to that where Denise was standing, but to the other, of which the sun-blinds were only half closed.
“You can, of course, see the château from here?” he said musingly.