"Mademoiselle
de Montalais, monsieur: my granddaughter. And Eve ..." She turned to
the third, to her whose voice of delightful accent was not in
Duchemin's notion wholly French: "Madame de Montalais, my daughter by
adoption, widow of my grandson, who died gloriously for his country at
La Fere-Champenoise."
IV
EVE
When she had graciously permitted Duchemin to assist her to a place in
the carriage, Madame Sevenie turned immediately to comfort her
granddaughter. It was easy to divine an attachment there, between
d'Aubrac and Louise de Montalais; Duchemin fancied (and, as it turned
out, rightly) the two were betrothed.
But Madame de Montalais was claiming his attention.
"Monsieur thinks--?" she enquired in a guarded tone, taking advantage
of the diversion provided by the elder lady to delay a little before
entering the barouche.
"Monsieur d'Aubrac is in no immediate danger. Still, the services of a
good surgeon, as soon as may be ..."
"Will it be dangerous to wait till we get to Nant?"
"How far is that, madame?"
"Twelve miles."
Duchemin looked aside at the decrepit conveyance with its unhappy
horses, and summed up a conclusion in a shrug.
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