‘But she—she has spoken of me lately?’ he continued, his face falling.
‘I do not think she has named your name for a fortnight,’ I answered, laughing. ‘There’s for you! Why, man,’ I continued, adopting a different tone, and laying my hand on his shoulder in a manner which reassured him at least; as much as my words, ‘are you so young a lover as to be ignorant that a woman says least of that of which she thinks most? Pluck up, courage! Unless I am mistaken, you have little to be afraid of except the past. Only have patience.’
‘You think so?’ he said gratefully.
I assured him that I had no doubt of it; and on that he fell into a reverie, and I to watching him. Alas for the littleness of our natures! He had received me with open arms, yet at sight of the happiness which took possession of his handsome face I gave way to the pettiest feeling which can harbour in a man’s breast. I looked at him with eyes of envy, bitterly comparing my lot with that which fate had reserved for him. He had fortune, good looks, and success on his side, great relations, and high hopes; I stood in instant jeopardy, my future dark, and every path which presented itself so hazardous that I knew not which to adopt. He was young, and I past my prime; he in favour, and I a fugitive.
To such reflections he put an end in a way which made me blush for my churlishness. For, suddenly awaking out, of his pleasant dream, he asked me about myself and my fortunes, inquiring eagerly how I came to be in St. Cloud, and listening to the story of my adventures with a generous anxiety which endeared him to me more and more. When I had done—and by that time Simon had joined us, and was waiting at the lower end of the room—he pronounced that I must see the king.
‘There is nothing else for it,’ he said.
‘I have come to see him,’ I answered.
‘Mon dieu, yes!’ he continued, rising from his seat and looking at me with a face of concern. ‘No one else can help you.’
I nodded.
‘Turenne has four thousand men here. You can do nothing against so many?’