At this instant the tramp of horses was heard in the courtyard.
“Here they are!” said the Marquis. In a moment the two lads, fashionably but plainly dressed, came into the room, booted, spurred, and gloved, and flourishing their riding-whips. Their beaming faces brought in the freshness of the outer air; they were brilliant with health. They both grasped their father’s hand, giving him a look, as friends do, a glance of unspoken affection, and then they bowed coldly to the lawyer. Popinot felt that it was quite unnecessary to question the Marquis as to his relations towards his sons.
“Have you enjoyed yourselves?” asked the Marquis.
“Yes, father; I knocked down six dolls in twelve shots at the first trial!” cried Camille.
“And where did you ride?”
“In the Bois; we saw my mother.”
“Did she stop?”
“We were riding so fast just then that I daresay she did not see us,” replied the young Count.
“But, then, why did you not go to speak to her?”
“I fancy I have noticed, father, that she does not care that we should speak to her in public,” said Clement in an undertone. “We are a little too big.”