“He’s in your room?—I have found him! I shall see him again!”
In his joy, Bertrand embraced Virginie and once more knocked the hapless chicken to the ground. This time it fell into the gutter and Virginie was ready to weep.
“Won’t you please let me alone!” she cried; “this chicken’s for Auguste; and after I’ve had so much trouble to get it, you’ll be the cause of his not being able to eat it!”
“Oh! don’t cry! I’ll buy you more chickens—ten—twenty—an ox, if you choose! But, for the love of God, take me to my lieutenant straight away. I am in haste to embrace him!”
“What! then you still care for him?”
“Care for him! Who can ever have doubted my attachment, my devotion to his person?”
“Then you didn’t abandon him in England on purpose?”
“Abandon him! when it was in his service—for his welfare——”
“Oh! dear old Bertrand! I was perfectly sure he was a good fellow. Come, my little Bertrand, let’s go to Auguste. My! but he’ll be glad when he knows that you are still worthy of his affection!”
Virginie and Bertrand walked toward Rue de Berry. On the way, Virginie told the old servant of all the disasters that had befallen Auguste, and of the serious illness that he had had. As he listened to these details, Bertrand wiped his eyes now and then and exclaimed: