"My father! it is my father!"
It was, in fact, the old trooper of Henri IV who had passed within a few feet of his daughter. He walked toward the marquis, and said to him in a tone in which, although perfectly respectful, there was a slight tinge of bitterness:
"Seigneur, you request me to come to your house; you inform me that you will make known to me the seducer of my—of her who was once my daughter; you might well be certain that I would not decline that invitation; but permit me to say that I did not suppose that this information would be given before so many witnesses; I did not think that it was necessary that my shame should be so public!"
"Master Landry, do not accuse us before you know what we propose to do," replied the Marquis de Marvejols; "we know that you are a most honorable man; the fact that you served under King Henri honors you in our eyes no less than the most ancient quarterings of nobility on your arms could do; you cannot believe, therefore, that in requesting you to come before us our purpose was to humiliate you. On the contrary, we propose that justice shall be done you; and if your shame has been public, the reparation shall be equally public.—Be kind enough to take a seat—on this side."
The marquis pointed to the side opposite that where Landry's daughter was seated; and the old soldier, whose features had softened somewhat as he listened to the words of the Seigneur de Marvejols, seated himself on a bench, caressing his grizzled moustache, but taking pains not to look toward Bathilde.
She had been hardly able to control herself since she had been in her father's presence.
"He does not deign even to cast a glance at me!" she whispered to her friend.
"Because he is afraid of breaking down. He knows very well that you are here! If he saw you so pale and distressed, do you suppose that he could continue to be angry?—Wait, and hope."
The sound of a curtain drawn noisily back, and of spurs jangling loudly on the floor, attracted the attention of the two girls. A new personage had entered the hall; he made his appearance there as a master; and his manner was proud and arrogant as he strode toward the old marquis, passing disdainfully before the persons assembled there.
Bathilde instantly recognized Léodgard; she pressed Ambroisine's hand, murmuring: