“Monsieur le Marquis de Grandvilain, son of a man who honored me by calling me his friend.”
Madame de Noirmont, recognizing the young man who had been her prisoner, repressed a gesture of surprise, bowed coldly to Chérubin, and seemed to hesitate to look at him, as if she dreaded to see Monfréville with him again.
Little Ernestine bit her lips to keep from laughing, when she heard her father give the name of Grandvilain to the young man whom he presented.
At last Chérubin found himself at liberty once more, and returned to Monfréville, who said to him:
“You have been introduced to Madame de Noirmont?”
“Yes, my friend.”
“Nothing; indeed her greeting was decidedly cold.”
“Shall you go to her house?”
“Faith, I have no inclination to do so; it seems to me that it must be a horribly dull place. That Monsieur de Noirmont has a stiff sort of courtesy that turns one cold. After all, I am not obliged to visit all my father’s friends; they are hardly of my age.”