"Will you go then!" asked Roderick, laughing; and to avoid being farther tormented by his raillery, Edric hastily rose from his couch, and declared himself ready to attend him. The injuries he had received, having been only flesh wounds inflicted with a sabre, had now nearly healed; and the only change they had produced in his appearance, had been to make him look more pale and interesting, one arm being supported by a sling, and a bandeau bound round his forehead. Pauline's eyes sparkled when she saw him, in spite of her intended indifference; and she could not command her voice so entirely, but that its tremulous tone betrayed her inward agitation.
Edric's eyes also involuntarily expressed his pleasure; whilst the gay laugh and arch look of Roderick told that he was perfectly aware of what was passing in the mind of each. Doctor Entwerfen, however, saw nothing of the kind, his mind being quite absorbed in the delightful contemplation of his own glory. He had been presented to M. de Mallet by Roderick, as "his friend and counsellor, the learned and justly celebrated Dr. Entwerfen;" and that moment seemed a sufficient reward for a whole life of misery, the doctor's ecstasy upon the occasion being so unbounded, that he neither knew what he did nor what he said. Whilst Roderick had been speaking, indeed, he had been in perfect agony; stretching himself out on tiptoe, opening his hands and closing them again with every sentence, as though bursting with impatience to speak, that he might by his eloquence confirm the monarch's eulogium, yet trembling every instant lest he should interrupt it.
M. de Mallet had been a dabbler in scientific experiments in his youth, and, pleased to find a person who could talk to him, and understand his ideas upon the subject, he soon drew the doctor on one side, leaving his younger friends to be entertained by his daughter.
"I am glad, very glad, to see you so soon recovered," said Pauline, addressing Edric in a gentle tone; "I feared, that is, my father feared, your wounds were more serious."
"You see, Edric," cried Roderick archly, "it is as I said—Mademoiselle de Mallet feels for you exactly the same interest as her father does."
"I should be flattered by exciting any interest in so gentle a bosom," sighed Edric, looking at her tenderly.
Pauline sighed too—involuntarily, but remained silent.
"Do you then feel no interest in my behalf?" continued Edric; "not even the cold, chilling feeling sanctioned by your father?"
"Oh! call not the interest my father feels for you cold or chilling!" exclaimed Pauline with energy, "I am sure—that is, I think—" and here, fearing she had said too much, she stopped abruptly, totally unable to proceed.
"Oh, go on!" exclaimed Edric, gazing earnestly upon her blushing face—"go on, I could listen to you for ever!"