“Not even that. It was a case of life or death for me. I am in du Trémigon’s power. Not knowing that it was Mademoiselle—for I did not learn until this evening that she was Comtesse de Villars—I came. I am sorry. I am going back to give myself up to the Marquis. You may guess what that will mean.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Before I go, allow me to express my gratitude for your forbearance. You have saved my life. The Duke would have killed me, for I should have made no resistance.”
“It was death for me to see you there, to suspect—but Mademoiselle will forgive me——”
“There is no need, my good Éspiau,” said the Countess, extending her hand.
The old man kissed it like a gentleman. Indeed, I dare say, compared to du Trémigon, and others that I had met in Paris, he was as fine a gentleman as any of them.
“I should like to shake you by the hand,” I said.
“Monsieur honors me,” said Éspiau.
I didn’t know whether there was sarcasm in his voice or not, but we shook hands vigorously.
“Mademoiselle,” I continued, turning to her, “there is but one thing for me to do.”
“What is that?”
“To wish you farewell and to go as I came.”