There was not much imagination in this dream of M. Hervart's, for he had often realised it in the past. But the introduction of Rose made of it something quite new, a pleasure hitherto unfelt.
"By the end of my stay I shall be madly in love with her and very unhappy," he said to himself at last.
A little while later they met M. Des Boys, who was looking for them. While they were waiting at the station for the train, M. Hervart examined his duplicate post-cards of the castles.
"Why shouldn't we go and look at them?" said Rose, glancing at her father.
"It will give me some ideas for the restoration of Robinvast, which I think of carrying out."
All that he meant to do was simply to set the place in order. He would have the mortar repointed without touching the ivy, and while preserving the wildness of the park and wood, he would have paths and alleys made.
"Art," he said sententiously, "admits only of a certain kind of disorder. Besides, I have to think of public opinion; the disorder of my garden will make people think that I am letting my daughter grow up in the same way...."
There was, in these words, a hint of marriage plans. Rose perceived it at once.
"I'm quite all right as I am," she said, "and so is Robinvast."
"Don't you agree with me?" said Rose, turning to M. Hervart with a laugh that palliated the boldness of her question.
"Oh, there's nothing more to be done with me. The harm's done already; I'm a savage. I'm thinking of the wildness of Robinvast; I like it and it suits my wildness."
"All the same," said M. Hervart, whose hands were covered with scratches, "there are a lot of brambles in the wood. I've never seen such fine ones, shoots like tropical creepers, like huge snakes...."
But it was not without a feeling of satisfaction that she looked at M. Hervart's hands, which were scarred with picking blackberries for her. She whispered to him:
"Defend yourself as well as they do," M. Hervart replied.
It had been only a chance word. No doubt, M. Des Boys thought of marrying his daughter, but the project was still distant. No suitor threatened. M. Hervart was pleased with this state of affairs; for, having fallen in love at ten in the morning, he was thinking now, at seven, of marrying this nervous and sentimental child who had offered the corner of her mouth to his clumsy kiss.