Volume Ii Part 68 (1/2)
”Ah! my dearest dear, on the contrary, I am very happy. But I divined that love of his a long while ago!”
”Really?”
”And yours too!”
”Ah! but I thought that I concealed very carefully, in the depths of my heart, what I felt for him!”
”You will be happy, dear Honorine. And my happiness would be complete, if----”
”If what?”
”Why, I don't know what the matter is with me! it still seems to me as if Edmond had something on his mind last night.”
”Don't, for heaven's sake, create imaginary torments for yourself. What!
can it be that it is I who am called upon now to restore mademoiselle's good spirits! What can you be afraid of?”
”I keep thinking of that wicked woman. She has already caused my poor father's death, and something, I don't know what, tells me that she means to injure me still more!”
”Agathe, you are not reasonable. Luckily Edmond's presence will drive away these black ideas.--Poucette! doesn't Pere Ledrux come to work in the garden to-day?”
”Yes, madame, it's his day; he's a little late, for it's after half-past seven.--But wait! I think I hear him now.”
The old peasant entered the garden with the basket on his arm in which he always carried his gardening tools.
”Tutu--tutu--turlututu! I'm a trifle late; a tenant of mine is the cause of it.”
”Have you a tenant, Pere Ledrux?”
”Yes, only since a couple of days. I don't think he'll stay here long; I don't know what he's up to, but he goes in and out all the time. He's a fine gentleman. Oh! yes, he's one of the swells! I thought at first he'd come down for the fete at the Bellevilles; but no, he didn't go to it; and yet it seems he knows 'em.”
”Ah! do you think so?”
”Yes, yes, he knows 'em well.--I think I'll water these beds a little; they're dry as can be!”
”Do so, Pere Ledrux.”
In a few moments the gardener returned to the two friends with his watering pot.
”Tutu--turlututu.--After all, my tenant did just as well not to go to that party--at the goldfish place.”
”Why so, Pere Ledrux?”
”Well! it was mighty fine, they say; but when things end in a fight--why, that ain't so amusing! I don't like that, myself!”
”What's that? What do you mean by a fight?”
”Why, yes, a fight, quarrelling, blows. And it seems they went at it in good shape, for Monsieur Droguet lost six or seven teeth, and Monsieur Luminot got a crack that echoed like a blow on a drum!”
The young women gazed at each other in surprise.