"No, Monsieur Roger," answered Miette, "you were not mistaken. You are going to be very happy here, very happy. There, now! I see papa and mamma returning."
The door of the vestibule had just been opened.
They could see Peter exchanging some words with his master and mistress. Then hurried steps were heard, and in a moment Monsieur Dalize was in the arms of his friend Roger. Miss Miette, who had taken her mamma by the arm, obliged her to bend down, and said in her ear,—
"I love him already, our friend Roger."
[CHAPTER IV.]
MONSIEUR ROGER'S STORY.
The evening had come, the evening of that happy day when the two friends, after ten years of absence, had come together again. Monsieur Roger had known from the first that he would find loving and faithful hearts just as he had left them. They were all sitting, after dinner, in a large vestibule, whose windows, this beautiful evening in autumn, opened out upon the sleeping park. For some moments the conversation had fallen into an embarrassing silence. Every one looked at Monsieur Roger. They thought that he might speak, that he might recount the terrible event which had broken his life; but they did not like to ask him anything about it. Monsieur Roger was looking at the star-sprinkled sky, and seemed to be dreaming, but in his deeper self he had guessed the thoughts of his friends and understood he ought to speak. He passed his hand over his forehead to chase away a painful impression, and with a resolute, but low and soft voice, he said,—
"I see, my friends, my dear friends, I see that you expect from me the story of my sorrow."