“We had just caught sight of it as we turned into that road; and as it seemed to us very pretty at a distance, we were going nearer in order to see it at closer quarters. We did not expect to make the acquaintance of its owner,—for monsieur is the owner of the Tower, I believe?”
“Yes, mademoiselle,” replied Ami’s master curtly, while Honorine nudged her friend again to make her keep silent; but she continued to pay no heed to the admonition.
“Oh! I recognized monsieur at once; we met him one day when we were looking for a certain field. It was then that your dog came to me and made advances. He doesn’t do that to everybody, does he, monsieur?”
“Assuredly not, mademoiselle. He is not lavish of his friendship! And he has one great advantage over men, in that he never gives it except to those who deserve it.”
“Then I ought to be proud of his friendship for me. Oh! you splendid dog! you good old dog! Look, Honorine; see how he walks around us, and how pleased he looks!”
It was a fact that Ami kept circling about the three persons who were walking along arm-in-arm. Sometimes he darted ahead, but he very soon returned, looked up in his master’s face with a joyous yelp or two, then made the circuit of the little group anew, as if to make sure that they had not separated.
This pantomime on Ami’s part did not escape his master, whose face, which wore an expression of annoyance when he first offered his arm to Honorine, began to be less severe.
Honorine, who still felt very weak, was forced to lean heavily on the arm of her escort, and she apologized therefor:
“I beg pardon, monsieur,” she murmured; “I am tiring you, I am obliged to lean so heavily on you. But I am not very strong, and the slightest shock is enough to make me ill.”
“Lean on me, madame; it does not tire me in the least.”