How impatiently, in ’83 and ’84, did we wait for news of the camp of Saint-Roch! I all but went as doctor with the King’s forces. At that time your great-uncle, the Admiral de Kergarouët who is still living, waged his famous battle, for he was on La Belle Poule.”
“Ah! if he knew that his grand-nephew were in prison!”
“Monsieur le Vicomte will not be there two days longer,” said old Minoret, rising.
He put out his hand to take that of the old lady, who suffered him to do so, he deposited a respectful kiss upon it, made a low bow, and went out; but he returned to say to the curé: “My dear abbé, will you engage a seat for me in the diligence for tomorrow morning?”
The curé remained about half an hour singing the praises of Doctor Minoret, who had intended making a conquest of the old lady, and had succeeded.
“He is wonderful for his age,” she said, “he talks of going to Paris and arranging my son’s affairs as if he were only twenty-five years old. He has been in good society.”
“The best, madame; and, nowadays, more than one son of a poor French peer would be glad to marry his ward, who is worth a million. Ah! if this idea entered Savinien’s head, times are so changed, that the greatest objections would not be on your side after your son’s behavior.”
The profound astonishment that this last sentence caused the old lady permitted the curé to finish.
