“There!” cried Gothard, “I hear some one.”
“Oh, it is only I,” said the worthy man, coming toward them. “Your servant, gentleman; are you off hunting, in spite of the new decrees? I don’t complain of you; but do take care! though you have friends you have also enemies.”
“Oh, as for that,” said the elder Hauteserre, smiling, “God grant that our hunt may be lucky to-day,—if so, you will get your masters back again.”
These words, to which events were destined to give a totally different meaning, earned a severe look from Laurence. The elder Simeuse was confident that Malin would restore Gondreville for an indemnity. These rash youths were determined to do exactly the contrary of what the Marquis de Chargeboeuf had advised. Robert, who shared these hopes, was thinking of them when he gave utterance to the fatal words.
“Not a word of this, old friend,” said Michu to Beauvisage, waiting behind the others to lock the gate.
It was one of those fine mornings in March when the air is dry, the earth pure, the sky clear, and the atmosphere a contradiction to the leafless trees; the season was so mild that the eye caught glimpses here and there of verdure.
“We are seeking treasure when all the while you are the real treasure of our house, cousin,” said the elder Simeuse, gaily.
Laurence was in front, with a cousin on each side of her. The d’Hauteserres were behind, followed by Michu. Gothard had gone forward to clear the way.
“Now that our fortune is restored, you must marry my brother,” said the younger in a low voice. “He adores you; together you will be as rich as nobles ought to be in these days.”
“No, give the whole fortune to him and I will marry you,” said Laurence; “I am rich enough for two.”