"Is it you, Sans-Cravate? I expected a call from you. Come and sit down, and let us have a talk."
Surprised at this reception, which aroused the most cheering hopes in his heart, Sans-Cravate seated himself on the edge of the chair that the young man indicated, and stammered:
"Yes—yes, Monsieur Albert, it's me. You certainly had good reason to think I would come; for, you see, this thing's got to be settled! And I love my sister, my poor Liline, so dearly! But I hope that you still love her, too?"
Albert threw himself back in his chair and held his feet to the fire, as he replied:
"Yes, my dear Sans-Cravate; your sister is fascinating—and as gentle and sweet as an angel. I loved her dearly, and I still love her. So I mean her to be happy—that is my most earnest desire."
"Oh! then it's all right, monsieur!" cried the messenger, joyfully; "you mean to make my sister happy—that is to say, you will keep the promise you made to her when you took her away from Auvergne. Ah! you make me very happy, too, and you are an excellent young man."
"When I say that I want to see your sister happy, Sans-Cravate," rejoined Albert, balancing himself in his chair, "I mean that, to atone for my thoughtlessness, I propose to assure her comfort, her future. If I made promises, they were mere words, such as all young men say to pretty girls, which do not bind one to anything."
Sans-Cravate pushed his chair away; he turned pale, but fastened his eyes on Albert, and exclaimed, without a trace of his former hesitation:
"We have got to a point where we don't agree, but, sacrédié! we must settle on something. Monsieur Albert, didn't you seduce my sister, a simple, innocent maid, who had no idea of love? Will you deny that you abused her innocence, and that you induced her to leave her home and her patroness, only by swearing that you would marry her?"
"Mon Dieu! I won't deny anything! I have told you already that I admit all that. But, once more, every young man takes fifty such oaths; so much the worse for those who believe them!"