Ivan silently sought his lonely chamber; "for," said he, "this joy is one in which a stranger may not intermeddle."
An hour later Henri bounded up the stairs, and knocked at his door. "Supper is ready," he said; "come, my friend, and join us." As they went down together he added, "It is one joy the more for me to find you here, M. Pojarsky."
While the happy family party sat together over the repast—almost as unable now to eat for joy as they had been for sorrow on the evening of Henri's departure—their talk strayed lightly over the surface of the eventful histories that had yet to be told and heard.
"I must congratulate you upon your recovery, M. de Talmont," said Ivan.—"If you had seen him in the hospital at Vilna, madame," he added, turning to Madame de Talmont, "you would rejoice and wonder at the change."
"Ah, that well-remembered visit of yours!" returned Henri. "In every way it was a happy one for me. Do you know it has saved me a tedious and fruitless journey to Brie, and a long delay in finding my mother and sister?"
"How could that be?"
"I arrived in Paris last night, very late. This morning I chanced to see a young Russian gentleman in a uniform like yours; so I accosted him, and asked for news of you."
"How did you know my name?"
Henri smiled. "Naturally I wished to know to whom I was indebted for so much kindness. So that day, after you left the hospital, I asked those about me, and easily found out who you were. Your comrade in the Chevalier Guard, whom I met this morning, informed me that you had been wounded, and were now at Versailles. Shall I tell you what he said besides?" he added with a comical air of hesitation. "Just this—'He is a fortunate lad, born under a lucky star, and always sure to fall upon his feet. At present he is the guest of a perfectly charming family of the old noblesse, named De Talmont.'"
