Idris was about to offer his hand, but observing that the viscount was stiffly bowing with his hands behind him, he thought he could not do better than imitate the other's example.
For a moment the two men eyed each other, both apparently animated by a spirit of defiance, the cause of which was patent enough to Godfrey in the person of the charming woman sitting between them.
Idris, mindful of the fact that he was the son of an escaped convict, while Ivar was the descendant of a line of belted earls, felt bitterly the contrast between their respective positions.
"How this fellow would sneer, if he knew the truth!" was his thought.
"Lord save us!" the woman, who owned the cottage, whispered to Godfrey. "How like they are! The same proud face upon each!"
The surgeon glanced from one to the other, and was compelled to admit that there certainly was a resemblance in features between the two men, a resemblance which would have been the stronger, had not Idris been dark, and Ivar fair.
While Lorelie gave a brief account of her rescue, Ivar listened with impatience, evidently of opinion that Fortune, while permitting Idris to save Mademoiselle Rivière, might at least have had the good sense to drown him afterwards.
"At the next Parish Council," said Lorelie to Godfrey, "you must call attention to the 'Stairs of David.'"
"The ladder ought certainly to be seen to," said Idris, "but for my part, mademoiselle," he added, bowing to Lorelie, "I shall never regret the instability of that structure."