Let us return to the
house--I will show you the way."
Lomaque's lips opened, then closed again; he bowed uneasily, and
his sallow complexion whitened for a moment.
Trudaine led the way in silence back to the house; the
land-steward following slowly at a distance of several paces, and
talking in whispers to himself. "His father was the saving of
me," muttered Lomaque; "that is truth, and there is no getting
over it; his father was the saving of me; and yet here am I--no!
it's too late!--too late to speak--too late to act--too late to
do anything!"
Close to the house they were met by the old servant.
"My young lady has just sent me to call you in to coffee,
monsieur," said Guillaume. "She has kept a cup hot for you, and
another cup for Monsieur Lomaque."
The land-steward started--this time with genuine astonishment.
"For me!" he exclaimed. "Mademoiselle Rose has troubled herself
to keep a cup of coffee hot for me?" The old servant stared;
Trudaine stopped and looked back.
"What is there so very surprising," he asked, "in such an
ordinary act of politeness on my sister's part?"
"Excuse me, Monsieur Trudaine," answered Lomaque; "you have not
passed such an existence as mine--you are not a friendless old
man--you have a settled position in the world, and are used to be
treated with consideration. I am not. This is the first occasion
in my life on which I find myself an object for the attention of
a young lady, and it takes me by surprise.
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