first, the
resolution that illness, and not dejection, should have all the credit
of Berenger's absence; then for recollecting of how short standing
had been his brother's convalescence; and lastly, for a fury of
self-execration for his own unkindness, rude taunts, and neglect of the
recurring illness. He would have turned about and gone back at once, but
the two gendarmes were close behind, and he knew Humfrey would attend to
his brother; so he walked on to the hall--a handsome chamber, hung with
armour and spoils of hunting, with a few pictures on the panels, and a
great carved music-gallery at one end. The table was laid out somewhat
luxuriously for four, according to the innovation which was beginning to
separate the meals of the grandees from those of their household.

Great concern was expressed by the Chevalier, as Philip, in French, much
improved since the time of his conversation with Madame de Selinville,
spoke of his brother's indisposition, saying with emphasis, as he glared
at Captain Delarue, that Maitre Pare had forbidden all exposure to
mid-day heat, and that all their journeys had been made in morning or
evening coolness. 'My young friend,' as his host called him, 'should,
he was assured, have mentioned this, since Captain Delarue had no
desire but to make his situation as little painful as possible.' And
the Chevalier sent his steward at once to offer everything the house
contained that his prisoner could relish for supper; and then anxiously
questioned Philip on his health and diet, obtaining very short and glum
answers. The Chevalier and the captain glanced at each other with little
shrugs; and Philip, becoming conscious of his shock hair, splashed
doublet, and dirty boots, had vague doubts whether his English dignity
were not being regarded as English lubberliness; but, of course, he
hated the two Frenchmen all the more, and received their civility
with greater gruffness. They asked him the present object of his
journey--though, probably, the Chevalier knew it before, and he told of
the hope that they had of finding the child at Lucon.

'Vain, of course?' said the Chevalier. 'Poor infant! It is well for
itself, as for the rest of us, that its troubles were ended long ago.'

Philip started indignantly.

'Does your brother still nurture any vain hope?' said the Chevalier.

'Not vain, I trust,' said Philip.

'Indeed! Who can foolishly have so inspired him with a hope that merely
wears out his yo