"Do not let me detain you, Mademoiselle," he said. "Mathurin will see you safely into the carriole, and the man will drive you to Courson as fast as the horse can trot. I would not like to be the innocent cause of my brother's anxiety. But I fear me," he added, "that you will carry away a very unpleasant impression of La Frontenay--the jail-birds have pecked at their keeper, eh? Well, if I have to dismiss some of them, they'll be available for the campaign of highway robbery and pillage which I hear the adherents of the dispossessed King have set on foot, in order to fill his coffers; and my brother Laurent will be satisfied, I hope."
Strangely enough, Fernande--proud, imperious, high-handed Fernande--felt all her anger against de Maurel suddenly melt away at his scornful tirade. Indeed, had he been less blind and more sophisticated, he could not have failed to notice the little smile of triumph which lit up her entire face as she listened to words which of a surety ought to have filled the measure of her wrath. There could be no doubt now that the bear was over-ready to dance whithersoever he was led, seeing that the mere mention of his brother's name had caused him to forget himself completely in this new feeling of jealousy, and to hit out senselessly in every direction. Well, thought Mademoiselle Fernande--and she drew a contented little sigh--he should suffer punishment for this outburst of temper--punishment far more severe than he had endured a while ago, for it would be accompanied by stinging remorse and a gnawing fear that forgiveness would never be granted to him again. With this thought of retributive justice in her mind, she allowed becoming tears to gather in her eyes and a slight tremor to veil her voice, as she drew herself up to her full height with stately dignity and said coldly:
"My cousin Laurent would, indeed, be satisfied if he saw me once more safely at Courson, where, though we are poor, and still, in a measure, strangers in our native land, we are at least not subjected to insult. My good Mathurin," she added, placing her small white hand on the grimy sleeve of the overseer, "I pray you escort me to the carriole. The heat and noise of the workshops have made me faint. I should be grateful for the support of your arm. _Au revoir, mon cousin!_" she said in conclusion, with a slight nod of her dainty head toward de Maurel, accompanied by a look of cold reproach. "Let us go, my good Mathurin!"