"Certainly," replied Roderick; "but am I to tell Edric that Mademoiselle de Mallet has no wishes for his welfare?"
"I wish—I hope—that is, I think——" stammered Pauline.
"My daughter means her sentiments are exactly similar to my own upon the subject," said M. de Mallet gravely; for he was not at all pleased with the interpretation he thought the King might put upon the embarrassment of his daughter.
"Very well!" repeated Roderick provokingly: "I shall tell Edric, that M. de Mallet and his daughter think exactly alike of him.—That is it, is it not?"
M. de Mallet was about to reply, when the King, nodding and waving his hand, bade them adieu, and hurried away. "I don't know what to make of the Irish hero," said M. de Mallet, the moment he had left them. "With all his good qualities, there is something very strange about him: I don't know what to make of him!"
Pauline sighed assent; though she did know what to make of him very well, for she fancied he saw, and ridiculed her partiality for Edric. This idea roused every spark of pride in her nature; she could not bear the thought of being supposed to give her love unsought, and she determined when she next saw Roderick to show by her coldness and indifference, when Edric was mentioned, how completely he had been deceived.
When Roderick left the tent of M. de Mallet, he returned to Edric, whom he found pale and feeble.
"You are the happiest fellow in existence, Edric!" said he: "I would willingly give all my glory, and even my demoniacal renown, that the Spaniards talk so much about, to be able to call up such blushes to the cheek of beauty as your name can raise. Oh! if you had seen Pauline. By Heaven! she is the loveliest creature I ever beheld in my life!"
As he spoke, Alexis, the Greek page, who had been crouching rather than sitting at the foot of Edric's couch, resting his head upon his hands, and looking absorbed in grief, uttered a faint cry, and rushed out of the tent.
"There is something very extraordinary about that boy," said Roderick, looking after him.