Eusebe made no response, nor did his countenance betray any inward emotion.
“He takes it better than I thought he would,” said Gredinette, in the evening, to Paul.
By degrees, Eusebe was restored to health. One morning he said to his two friends,—
“I am about to bid you farewell. I am going to return to La Capelette, which I should never have quitted. I shall say good-bye to my father-in-law, and set out this very evening. Thanks for all your kind friendship: I shall never forget it. If, some day, weary of life, you should desire to taste the sweets of repose, come to my home, and I will love you as you have loved me.”
“Do not go to see Bonnaud,” said Paul: “the distracted father accuses you of being the cause of his daughter’s fault.”
“Accuses me!”
“Yes. He pretends that this elopement is one of the results of your liaison with Adéonne. Nor would I advise you to trouble yourself any more about Madame de la Varade. She is absorbed in the preaching of a missionary who is creating a sensation at Versailles.”
“A missionary? What is that?”
“Missionaries, my friend,” replied Paul, seriously, “are men, or rather children of God, who traverse the seas, and encounter a thousand perils, to bear to benighted savages the word of God and civilization. The priest of whom I speak has been crucified, and has been six times in danger of being eaten.”