The heir lowered his head and did not raise it again. Flore, amazed at such an encouraging sign from a man who had been overcome by a fear of that nature, left the room.
Three days later, at the same hour (for both seemed to regard the dessert as a field of battle), Flore spoke first, and said to her master,—
“Have you anything against me?”
“No, mademoiselle,” he answered, “No—” (a pause) “On the contrary.”
“You seemed annoyed the other day to hear I was an honest girl.”
“No, I only wished to know—” (a pause) “But you would not tell me—”
“On my word!” she said, “I will tell you the whole truth.”
“The whole truth about—my father?” he asked in a strangled voice.
“Your father,” she said, looking full into her master’s eye, “was a worthy man—he liked a joke—What of that?—there was nothing in it. But, poor dear man, it wasn’t the will that was wanting. The truth is, he had some spite against you, I don’t know what, and he meant—oh! he meant you harm. Sometimes he made me laugh; but there! what of that?”
“Well, Flore,” said the heir, taking her hand, “as my father was nothing to you—”