“It is nothing,” she answered, addressing Sallenauve; “only that my little girl reminded me suddenly of the utmost obligation we are under to you, monsieur. ‘Without him,’ she said, ‘you would not have me.’ Ah! monsieur, without your generous courage where would my child be now?”
“Come, come, don’t excite yourself,” interposed Madame Octave de Camps, observing the convulsive and almost gasping tone of her friend’s voice. “It is not reasonable to put yourself in such a state for a child’s speech.”
“She is better than the rest of us,” replied Madame de l’Estorade, taking Nais in her arms.
“Come, mamma, be reasonable,” said that young lady.
“She puts nothing in the world,” continued Madame de l’Estorade, “before her gratitude to her preserver, whereas her father and I have scarcely shown him any.”
“But, madame,” said Sallenauve, “you have courteously—”
“Courteously!” interrupted Nais, shaking her pretty head with an air of disapproval; “if any one had saved my daughter, I should be different to him from that.”
“Nais,” said Madame de Camps, sternly, “children should be silent when their opinion is not asked.”
“What is the matter,” said Monsieur de l’Estorade, joining the group.
“Nothing,” said Madame de Camps; “only a giddiness Renee had in dancing.”