‘Brother, what is it—­what has the old rogue done to you?’

‘Nothing,’ said Berenger, tardily and wearily; and for some minutes he did not attempt to speak, while Philip devoured his curiosity as best he might.  At last he said, ’He was always beyond me.  What think you?  Now he wants me to turn French courtier and marry his daughter.’

‘His daughter!’ exclaimed Philip, ’that beautiful lady I saw in the coach?’

A nod of assent.

‘I only wish it were I.’

‘Philip,’ half angrily, ‘how can you be such a fool?’

‘Of course, I know it can’t be,’ said Philip sheepishly, but a little offended.  ’But she’s the fairest woman my eyes ever beheld.’

‘And the falsest.’

’My father says all women are false; only they can’t help it, and don’t mean it.’

‘Only some do mean it,’ said Berenger, dryly.

‘Brother!’ cried Philip, fiercely, as if ready to break a lance, ’what right have you to accuse that kindly, lovely dame of falsehood?’

‘It skills not going through all,’ said Berenger, wearily.  ’I know her of old.  She began by passing herself off on me as my wife.’

‘And you were not transported?’

‘I am not such a gull as you.’

‘How very beautiful your wife must have been!’ said Philip, with gruff amazement overpowering his consideration.

‘Much you know about it,’ returned Berenger, turning his face away.

There was a long silence, first broken by Philip, asking more cautiously, ‘And what did you say to him?’

’I said whatever could show it was most impossible.  Even I said the brother’s handwriting was too plain on my face for me to offer myself to the sister.  But it seems all that is to be passed over as an unlucky mistake.  I wish I could guess what the old fellow is aiming at.’

‘I am sure the lady looked at you as if she loved you.’

’Simpleton!  She looked to see how she could beguile me.  Love!  They do nothing for love here, you foolish boy, save par amour.  If she loved me, her father was the last person she would have sent me.  No, no; ’tis a new stratagem, if I could only seen my way into it.  Perhaps Sir Francis will when he can spend an hour on me.’

Though full of occupation, Sir Francis never failed daily to look in upon his convalescent guest, and when he heard of the Chevalier’s interview, he took care that Berenger should have full time to consult him; and, of course, he inquired a good deal more into the particulars of the proposal than Philip had done.  When he learnt that the Chevalier had offered all the very considerable riches and lands that Diane enjoyed in right of her late husband as an equivalent for Berenger’s resignation of all claims upon the Nid-de-Merle property, he noted it on his tables, and desired to know what these claims might be.  ‘I cannot tell,’ said Berenger.  ’You may remember, sir, the parchments with our contract of marriage had been taken away from Chateau Leurre, and I have never seen them.’