"I heard several, mademoiselle, but I remember only two: the gentleman who took up our defence and fought for us, after offering to be my knight—in jest, doubtless—his name was Passedix."
"Passedix!—Do you know any gentleman of that name, aunt?"
"No, no one! He must be some chevalier d'industrie!"
"Then the man who was so fierce against us, and whose terrible sword beat down all obstacles—him they called the Sire de Jarnonville. Oh! that man had a terrifying look!"
"The Sire de Jarnonville!" repeated Madame de Ravenelle. "That is a very old name—a noble family; but it is a long while since the descendant of the Jarnonvilles ceased to appear in society—that is to say, in the society frequented by self-respecting persons."
"And you did not hear any one of those young nobles called Léodgard de Marvejols?"
"No, mademoiselle, I am quite sure that I did not hear that name."
"What are you worrying about now, niece?"
"I am not worrying at all, aunt; but as it was a gathering of scapegraces, it seemed to me quite natural that Monsieur Léodgard should be there.—Miretta, I understand your gratitude for the brave girl who—I do not quite know how—rescued you from your dangerous position. You will do well to go to thank her, for ingratitude is the vice of base minds, and it always indicates the presence of other vices. Go to the reception room and ask for Béatrix; she will take you to the room that has been prepared for you; it is not far from mine, and you can hear my bell there.—But, by the way, this Cédrille, your cousin—what have you done with him?"
"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, he stayed below, in the courtyard, with his horse; I will go and bid him adieu, and he will go away."