"Ah, it is easy to speak to the count," said Coucou, unthinkingly; "he has such a cheering smile—"
A frown passed over Spero's face, and he gently said:
"My father is good—he is much better than I am—I knew it long ago."
"Vicomte, I did not say that," cried the Zouave, embarrassed.
"No, but you thought so, and were perfectly right, my dear Auguste; if you wish to have me for a friend, always tell the truth."
"Yes, sir," replied Coucou, "and now I have a special favor to ask you, vicomte."
"Speak, it is already granted."
"Vicomte, the count never calls me Auguste, which is my baptismal name, but Coucou. If you would call me Coucou, I—"
"With pleasure. Well, then, Coucou, you know nothing further?"
"Nothing."