"What do you want, Hector?" inquired the marquis, raising his head; "I did not ring for you."
"That is true, monsieur le marquis; and I should not have ventured to disturb you without a reason, a motive; someone——"
"What is it, pray? Speak, explain yourself, Hector. Does someone wish to speak with me? Is it my son, or someone from him?"
"No, monsieur," replied the valet sadly, turning his eyes upon the floor; "no, it is not Monsieur Léodgard who sends—although the person probably knows him, for she came here to ask for him several months ago."
"The person—who is this person?"
"It is a young girl; she asks to be allowed the favor of speaking with monseigneur—in private."
"A young girl—and an acquaintance of Comte Léodgard—I can have nothing in common with such a person! Send the girl away, Hector!"
"I have the honor to assure monsieur le marquis that the person in question appears to be no less virtuous than respectable. She implores monseigneur to consent to hear her; she demands justice and says that she has no hope of obtaining it except through him."
"Justice!" muttered the marquis. "In that case, Hector, do not keep this girl waiting—admit her at once."
The old valet left the room, but he very soon returned with Ambroisine, who, when she reached the doorway, turned pale and began to tremble, and dared not go forward, for the marquis's aspect was stern and imposing. The old man fastened his eyes upon her, and they inspired as much fear as respect in the person who faced them for the first time.