The messenger, seeing that Sans-Souci was deeply interested in Edouard, regretted having said so much.
“But why is he in prison?” asked Sans-Souci anxiously; “what has he done? Speak! tell me. Is it for debt?”
“Yes, yes; I believe it’s about a note,” replied the messenger, hesitating, and resolved not to disclose the truth; and he tried, but in vain, to change the subject.
“Morbleu! his brother—her husband—in prison! Poor little woman! Poor fellow!”
“Don’t say anything about it to them, my friend, don’t mention it to them. I am sorry myself that I told you this distressing news.”
“You are right, I will hold my tongue, I won’t say anything. After all, they can’t help it. That Edouard is a bad fellow! So much the worse for him.”
“Oh, yes! he is a very bad fellow, and they will do well to forget him.”
“Yes, of course, we can think that, we fellows; but a wife, a brother, they have hearts, you see, and when it’s a question of someone you love, the heart always drives you on.—Good-bye, old man; I am going back to the farm, very sorry that I met you, although it isn’t your fault. My heart is heavy, and the trouble is that I am too stupid to make-believe.”
Sans-Souci left his friend and returned to the farm. Adeline and Jacques questioned him according to their custom, and Sans-Souci replied that he knew no more than at other times; but in vain did he try to dissemble; his sadness betrayed him; his embarrassment, when Adeline spoke to him of Edouard, aroused her suspicions; a woman easily divines our secret thoughts. Edouard’s wife, convinced that Sans-Souci was concealing from her something unpleasant about her husband, was constantly at his heels; she urged him, she implored him to tell her all.
For two days the honest soldier’s courage held good against Adeline’s prayers. But he reflected upon the plight of Edouard, whom he believed to be in prison for debt; he thought that his wife might have acquaintances in Paris, through whom she could probably alleviate Edouard’s situation. Edouard had been guilty; but perhaps misfortune would have matured his character. And it was not right to deprive him of help and encouragement. These reflections caused Sans-Souci to decide to conceal no longer from Adeline what he knew. The opportunity soon presented itself; the next day the young woman entreated him again to tell her what her husband was doing; Sans-Souci surrendered, on condition that she would not mention it to Jacques, by whom he feared to be scolded. Adeline promised, and then he told her all that he had learned in Paris.