He spoke to me about somebody--eh, ma petite, que
voulez-vous dire?"
"Oh, Papa Roussillon! we were just talking about Rene!" cried
Alice. "Have you seen him?"
"I saw you, you little minx, jumping into a man's arms right under
the eyes of a whole garrison! Bah! I could not believe it was my
little Alice!"
He let go a grand guffaw, which seemed to shake the cabin's walls.
Alice blushed cherry red. Adrienne, too bashful to inquire about
Rene, was trembling with anxiety. The truth was not in Gaspard
Roussillon, just then; or if it was it stayed in him, for he had
not seen Rene de Ronville. It was his generous desire to please
and to appear opulent of knowledge and sympathy that made him
speak. He knew what would please Adrienne, so why not give her at
least a delicious foretaste? Surely, when a thing was so cheap,
one need not be so parsimonious as to withhold a mere
anticipation. He was off before the girls could press him into
details, for indeed he had none.
"There now, what did I tell you?" cried Alice, when the big man
was gone. "I told you Rene would come. They always come back!"
Father Beret came in a little later. As soon as he saw Alice he
frowned and began to shake his head; but she only laughed, and
imitating his hypocritical scowl, yet fringing it with a twinkle
of merry lines and dimples, pointed a taper finger at him and
exclaimed:
"You bad, bad, man! why did you pretend to me that Lieutenant
Beverley was dead? What sinister ecclesiastical motive prompted
you to describe how Long-Hair scalped him? Ah, Father--"
The priest laid a broad hand over her saucy mouth.
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