“What do you say, Jacques? your duty?”
“Yes, madame, yes, my duty; my brother has ruined your life, and the least that I can do will be to devote my life to you, and to try to repair his villainy.”
“Is it possible? You are——”
“Jacques Murville, the boy who began his travels at fifteen, giving way to quick passions, and to his desire to see the world; and I confess, between ourselves, groaning in secret at his mother’s coldness, and jealous of the caresses which were lavished upon his brother and unjustly denied to him. But none the less I possessed a heart, sensitive in the matter of honor, from which I have never departed, even in the midst of my youthful follies.—That is my story; embrace me; I feel that I am worthy of your affection, and you can bestow it upon me without blushing.”
Adeline embraced Jacques warmly; she felt the keenest joy in meeting her husband’s brother, and the peasants exclaimed aloud in surprise, while Sans-Souci shouted at the top of his lungs as he rubbed his hands:
“I knew it! I knew it! but my comrade closed my mouth and I wouldn’t have said a word for all of the great Sultan’s pipes!”
“But why conceal from me so long the bond that unites us?” Adeline asked Jacques; “did you doubt it would please me to embrace my husband’s brother?”
“No,” replied Jacques, somewhat embarrassed, “no; but I wanted first of all to know you better; people sometimes blush for their relations.”
“Ah! my friend, when a man wears this symbol of honor, can he conceive such fears?”
“Ten thousand bombs! that’s what I have been killing myself telling him every day,” said Sans-Souci; “but he is a little pig-headed, is my friend; when he gets a thing into his head, he won’t let it go again.”