“And how do you stand with her?” I ventured to ask.
“I can not utter a word concerning that. Only to you, Babache, will I say that I am happier than I ever dared to hope.”
“At least you can tell me how Francezka is situated.”
“Oh, yes. Madame Riano has really started for Scotland. She left two days after I got to Brabant. I saw her five times before she went. She promises to return within a year. Francezka now has with her Madame Chambellan, but she is old and feeble, and I know not how long the arrangement will last.”
Here was news indeed.
“Francezka has another friend at hand—good Bold. The rogue got away evidently, and when I was full five miles from the city gates I heard him panting behind me. His tongue was out, and he would hardly have lasted much longer at the pace he was going, had I not found him and picked him up.”
I then explained how the dog had escaped.
“As I was secretly in Brabant,” continued Gaston, “of course, it was impossible to keep the dog with me. It was out of the question that I should give him away to any chance person willing to take him, so I made straight for the château of Capello, where I knew he had a friend in Francezka. I left him with her, as a guardian and protector, and a reminder, too, of his master. He remained willingly in Francezka’s sweet company, being ever a dog of the soundest discernment. I feel no jealousy; Francezka is welcome to my dog, as she is to me.”
I could not make out what Gaston’s footing was with Francezka, but that he was assured of her love I no longer doubted. Well, this was as it should be. The difference in their fortunes was but accidental; in all 252 else they were equals. It must be an agreeable feeling to know one’s self equal to any and all the world, except in this matter of fortune. I never had that feeling. I know myself to be a man, with all a man’s faculties, but this world of ours seldom lets a man forget from whence he sprang.