"She
loves him!"
In great perturbation he left the room promenading on the esplanade, in
the midst of his hounds, talking uneasily to himself.
"_Peste_, I put it to her a little too suddenly! It was a blunder. If
she loves that Sapeur-Pompier, eh? A Sapeur-Pompier, to rival a Comte de
Bonzag--faugh!"
Suddenly, below in the moonlight, he beheld Andoche tearing himself from
the embrace of Francine, and, not to be seen, he returned nervously to
the dining-room.
Shortly after, the maid-of-all-work returned, calm, but with telltale
eyes.
"Well, Francine, did I frighten you?" said the Comte, genially.
"Oh, yes, M'sieur le Comte--"
"Well, what do you want to say?"
"M'sieur was in real earnest?"
"Never more so."
"M'sieur really wants to make me the Comtesse de Bonzag?"
"_Dame!_ I tell you my intentions are honorable."
"M'sieur will let me ask him one question?"
"A dozen even."
"M'sieur remembers that I am a widow--"
"With one child, yes."
"M'sieur, pardon me; I have been thinking much, and I have been thinking
of my little girl.
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