"Of course I did," said Gabriel, quite stupefied with surprise.
"So, then," rejoined the poor squire, in a dull voice, "you believe me, Martin-Guerre, to be capable of basely appropriating money which did not belong to me,—money designed to procure my master's liberty?"
"No, Martin, no," replied Gabriel, earnestly, touched by the tone in which his faithful servant spoke. "My suspicions have never, I swear, led me to suspect your honesty; and Aloyse and I were just saying that very thing. But the money was stolen from you or you lost it on the road when you were coming back to me."
"Coming back to you!" echoed Martin. "But where, Monseigneur? Since we left St. Quentin together may God strike me dead if I know where you have been! Where was I to come back to you?"
"At Calais. Martin. However light and foolish your brain may be, you surely can't have forgotten Calais!"
"How in the world could I forget what I never knew?" said Martin-Guerre, calmly.
"Why, you miserable wretch, do you mean to perjure yourself in that matter?" cried Gabriel.
He said in a low voice a few words to the nurse, who thereupon left the room. Then he approached Martin.
"How about Babette, ingrate?" said he.
"Babette! What Babette?" asked the wondering squire.