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So sure as you are one of the most illustrious chemists of the day, I am Camille Langis, son of your best friend, a young man of great expectations, who admires you truly, who has followed you here, and who is now ready to begin all over again. There, my dear master, do you recognise me?"
It was about ten o'clock when M. Langis called on Samuel Brohl, who was not astonished to see him appear; he had hoped he would come. Samuel had regained self-possession. He was calm and dignified. However, the tempest through which he had gone had left on his features some vestige of its passage.
"But I think this bridge that spans the gorge is a more wonderful thing than all the wild works of nature around us. I admire men, like our friend Camille Langis, who know how to build these bridges. What a fine fellow he is! Most men, with his wealth, lead idle, useless lives. But there he is now, building bridges across mountains just as wild as these, in Hungary.
"I thought so little of sending him away that I asked him to dinner, in order to give you an opportunity of becoming more fully acquainted with him." "I thank you for your amiable intentions, but M. Langis pleases me little." "What have you against him?" "I have met him sometimes at Mme. de Lorcy's, and he always has shown me a most dubious politeness. I scent in him an enemy." "Pure imagination!
Moriaz could not suppress a cry, and seemed for a moment on the point of fainting herself. Mme. de Lorcy drew her arm around her waist, and hurried her into the next room, throwing to M. Langis a bottle of salts as she did so, and saying, "Take care of Count Larinski."
She obliged him to turn back; ten minutes later she had alighted from her coupe, he had sprung from his saddle, and they were seated side by side on a rustic bench. A few days previous M. Langis had met M. Moriaz, who had complained bitterly of being forsaken by him as well as by Mme. de Lorcy, and who had extracted from him the promise to come and see him. Camille had kept this promise.
Has M. Langis forgotten that you thought him too young only twenty-three?" "He has so little forgotten it that he has managed, I don't know how, to be at present twenty-five. How resist such a mark of affection? I shall be compelled to marry him." "That will never do. People do not marry for charity," replied Mlle. Moiseney, deprecatingly. "Adieu, my dear," said Antoinette, dismissing her.
I came to see Samuel Brohl, who is a business-man, and it is a commercial transaction that I intend to hold with him." And drawing from his pocket a porte-monnaie, he added: "You see I do not come empty-handed." Samuel settled himself in his arm-chair. Half closing his eyes, he watched M. Langis through his eye-lashes.
He felt the tears start to his eyes; he scarcely could restrain them; he abruptly bowed his head, and began to examine a beautiful horned beetle, which was just crossing the gravel-path at a quick pace, apparently having some very important affairs to regulate. When M. Langis raised his head his eyes were dry, his face serene, his lips smiling.
It seemed to Mlle. Moriaz that for the last twenty minutes she loved Count Larinski more than ever before. The hour drew near; he was on the way; she had never been so impatient to see him. She saw some one at the end of the terrace. It was M. Camille Langis, who was going towards the laboratory. He turned his head, retraced his steps, and came to her.
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