Pierre was proudly and joyously describing to Babette the details of the presentation.
"Yes, my dear sister," he was saying, "when Monsieur d'Exmès had told the Duc de Guise of our co-operation in all this, in terms which were certainly too flattering and highly colored, the great man deigned to express his satisfaction to Jean and myself with a gracious consideration which I, for my part, shall never forget, though I should live for more than a hundred years. But he gladdened and touched my heart above all by adding that he was anxious to serve us in some way, and asking me in what way he could do so. Not that I was interested for myself, Babette,—you know me too well for that; but do you know what favor I mean to ask of him?"
"No, indeed I do not, my brother," murmured Babette.
"Well, dear sister," continued Pierre, "as soon as we have found the wretch who so basely betrayed you,—and we shall find him, never fear!—I will ask Monsieur de Guise to assist me with his influence in making him save your good name. We have ourselves neither power nor riches, and some such support as his may be necessary to help us to obtain justice."
"Suppose that you fail of obtaining justice, even with his support, cousin?" asked Jean.
"Thanks to my good right arm," Pierre replied energetically, "vengeance at least will not fail me. And yet," he added in a lower voice, and glancing timidly at Martin-Guerre, "I must confess that violence has been productive of but little good thus far."
For a moment he said no more, but was lost in thought. When he shook off his absorption, he was surprised to see that Babette was weeping.
"What makes you weep, pray, my sister?" he asked.
"Ah, I am very unhappy!" cried Babette, sobbing as if her heart would break.
"Unhappy, and why? I believe that in the future the clouds will break away, and—"