"Faith! my dear monsieur, if you think I came here to amuse myself, you're most miserably mistaken; my errand isn't a very agreeable one, at best."
"Ah! but, you see, you assumed an air which--look you! that air of yours doesn't suit me at all, and if you were not this charming young lady's father, I'd have demanded satisfaction before this."
"Oh! monsieur, for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Adolphine, clasping her hands; "father didn't mean to offend you."
"Your father looked like a bulldog, mademoiselle, when you said that I was a friend of Gustave. Why was that? am I a friend to be despised, I pray to know? Friends like me, always ready to risk their lives in order to prove their devotion, don't grow on every bush, I beg you to believe. But here I am losing my temper, and I am wrong. I will tell you in a word what brings me here; it's no use to put on gloves. I come to inform you of the death of a young man of your acquaintance."
"O mon Dieu! Gustave is dead!" shrieked Adolphine, and fell back unconscious, while a ghastly pallor overspread her features.
"My child! my child! what is it, in God's name?" cried Monsieur Gerbault, trying to revive Adolphine; but she did not open her eyes.
Madeleine was summoned, and brought salts and vinegar. They carried the girl to an open window, while Cherami exclaimed:
"No, no; it isn't Gustave who's dead.--Poor girl! on my word, I was far from anticipating this. And it's because she thought Gustave was dead that she fainted. Well! well! well! Ah! the color's coming back a little; it will amount to nothing. See! she's opening her eyes; I will bring her back to life entirely."
He stooped over Adolphine, who was gazing listlessly about, and said:
"Let me set your mind at rest, mademoiselle; it's not Gustave who is dead; I wasn't talking about _Castor_."
"Is that true, monsieur?" she cried eagerly.
"I swear it by your head--and I wouldn't for the world endanger such a charming head!"
"Pray explain yourself then, monsieur!" said Monsieur Gerbault; "of whose death did you come to tell us?"
"Of your son-in-law, Auguste Monléard's; he died about two o'clock to-day, in the Bois de Boulogne."
At that, it was Monsieur Gerbault's turn to fly into a rage, and he strode toward Cherami, saying: