“In that case there’s nothing more to be said,” remarked Bigourdin dismally.
“There’s everything to be said,” declared Fortinbras. “But it’s not worth while saying it.”
Corinna rose and gathered up her gloves. “I’m glad you realise the fact.”
Bigourdin rose too and detained her for a second. “If you would do me the honour of accepting our hospitality for just a day or two”—delicately he included Félise as hostess—“perhaps you might be induced to reconsider your decision.”
But she was not be moved—even by Martin who, having smoked the pipe of discreet silence during the discussion, begged her to postpone her departure.
“Anyhow, wait,” said he, “until our good counsellor tells us what he proposes to do for me. As we started in together, it’s only fair.”
“Yes,” said Corinna. “Let us hear. What ordonnance de bonheur have you for Martin?”
“Are you very anxious to know?” asked Fortinbras.
“Naturally,” said Martin, and he added hastily in English, being somewhat shy of revealing himself to Bigourdin: “Corinna can tell you that I’ve been loyal to you all through. I’ve had a sort of blind confidence in you. I’ve chucked everything. But I’m nearly at the end of the financial tether, and something must happen.”
“Sans doute,” said Fortinbras. So as to bring Bigourdin into range again, he continued in French. “To tell you what is going to happen is one of the reasons why I am here.”