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We then slipped into the house, of which we had a plan, with Count Saxe's room marked there " he pointed to Gaston Cheverny's empty room. "The window of the room was wide open, and it was quite dark, but we could see that Count Saxe had fallen asleep before his writing table " "His writing table," murmured Count Saxe. "He is not much of a writer." "The candles had been blown out.
The narrowness of Gaston Cheverny's fortune made him lead the same life in Paris he had led since he first joined with us. Whether it were choice or necessity, his only intimate friends were myself, and his dog Bold. This dog was to him what I have tried to be to Count Saxe. No man need be ashamed to have his faithfulness and devotion compared to that of a dog of the right character.
Gaston Cheverny, wearing his hunting dress, his horn in his hand, was close behind, covering the great steps two at a time. As he dashed past the window and his laughing face flashed by in the blaze of the setting sun, I saw, as I am a living man, Regnard Cheverny's soul shining out of Gaston Cheverny's eyes. Francezka so expressed it, and I can not express it any better or any differently.
Gaston Cheverny was naturally elate, and even in the bravest of men, there is an exhilaration, a sort of intoxication at finding one's self alive when the chance of death was very imminent. I fell behind all the party, and was rallied by Count Saxe on my taciturnity, and accused of jealousy of Gaston Cheverny's prowess, but I let him have his joke.
The villagers were dancing by moonlight on the village green, to the music of pipes; we heard that every night since Gaston Cheverny's return, there had been dancing and music everywhere on the estates of Capello, as well as at the château. When we dismounted before the great entrance, we could see that the château was full of company, and a ball was going on in the Diana gallery.
I have never known a man who early acquired a fortune that was not a calculator and an acute reckoner of his own and other men's chances. But Gaston Cheverny was not a calculator in the mean sense. The motto of his house well described him. It ran, in the old French Un Loy, Un Foy, Un Roy. One faith was Gaston Cheverny's in all things.
I gave him a sound beating myself not a fortnight ago in the gardens of the Luxembourg." We were standing still in the arbor, and the mellow afternoon light showed me every line in Gaston Cheverny's comely face.
I will say this of that rogue and thief of other men's honor I never saw that human being who was so little awed by names and titles as Jacques Haret." Which was true, showing what virtues may yet subsist in a rascal. Gaston Cheverny's face changed as if by magic. "Why did I not think of that before!" he cried.
Count Saxe gave him a gently civil intimation of the danger ahead, but Gaston took no note of it, and was as eager as any one to find the "solitary." We put off into another part of the forest. I rode by Gaston Cheverny's side, and privately resolved to remain there. We talked together and I found him more like the old Gaston than I had yet seen him.
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