who would take the
carriage back to Benassis' house. It was impossible
to drive to La Fosseuse's
cottage, the
pathway was too narrow. The
park-keeper happened to appear upon the scene, and helped Genestas out
of his difficulty, so that the officer and his adopted son were at
liberty to follow the mountain footpath that led to the trysting-
place.
"Would you not enjoy spending a year in
running about in this lovely
country, Adrien? Learning to hunt and to ride a horse, instead of
growing pale over your books? Stay! look there!"
Adrien obediently glanced over the
valley with
languid indifference;
like all lads of his age, he cared nothing for the beauty of natural
scenery; so he only said, "You are very kind, father," without
checking his walk.
The
invalid listlessness of this answer went to Genestas' heart; he
said no more to his son, and they reached La Fosseuse's house in
silence.
"You are
punctual, commandant!" cried Benassis, rising from the wooden
bench where he was sitting.
But at the sight of Adrien he sat down again, and seemed for a while
to be lost in thought. In a
leisurely fashion he scanned the lad's
sallow, weary face, not without admiring its
delicate oval outlines,
one of the most
noticeable characteristics of a noble head. The lad
was the living image of his mother. He had her olive complexion,
beautiful black eyes with a sad and
thoughtful expression in them,
long hair, a head too
energetic for the
fragile body; all the peculiar
beauty of the Polish Jewess had been transmitted to her son.
"Do you sleep soundly, my little man?" Benassis asked him.
"Yes, sir."
"Let me see your knees; turn back your trousers."
Adrien reddened, unfastened his garters, and showed his knee to the
doctor, who felt it carefully over.
"Good. Now speak; shout, shout as loud as you can." Adrien obeyed.
"That will do. Now give me your hands."
The lad held them out; white, soft, and blue-veined hands, like those
of a woman.
"Where were you at school in Paris?"
"At Saint Louis."
"Did your master read his breviary during the night?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you did not go straight off to sleep?"
As Adrien made no answer to this, Genestas spoke. "The master is a
worthy
priest; he advised me to take my little
rascal away on the
score of his health," he told the doctor.
"Well," answered Benassis, with a clear, penetrating gaze into
Adrien's frightened eyes, "there is a good chance. Oh, we shall make a
man of him yet. We will live together like a pair of comrades, my boy!
We will keep early hours. I mean to show this boy of yours how to ride
a horse, commandant. He shall be put on a milk diet for a month or
two, so as to get his
digestion into order again, and then I will take
out a shooting license for him, and put him in Butifer's hands, and
the two of them shall have some chamois-
hunting. Give your son four or
five months of out-door life, and you will not know him again,
commandant! How
delighted Butifer will be! I know the fellow; he will
take you over into Switzerland, my young friend; haul you over the
Alpine passes and up the mountain peaks, and add six inches to your
height in six months; he will put some color into your cheeks and
brace your nerves, and make you forget all these bad ways that you
have fallen into at school. And after that you can go back to your
work; and you will be a man some of these days. Butifer is an honest
young fellow. We can trust him with the money necessary for traveling
expenses and your
hunting expeditions. The
responsibility will keep
him steady for six months, and that will be a very good thing for
him."
Genestas' face brightened more and more at every word the doctor
spoke.
"Now, let us go in to breakfast. La Fosseuse is very
anxious to see
you," said Benassis, giving Adrien a gentle tap on the cheek.
Genestas took the doctor's arm and drew him a little aside. "Then he
is not consumptive after all?" he asked.
"No more than you or I."
"Then what is the matter with him?"
"Pshaw!" answered Benassis; "he is a little run down, that is all."
La Fosseuse appeared on the
threshold of the door, and Genestas
noticed, not without surprise, her simple but coquettish
costume. This
was not the
peasant girl of
yesterday evening, but a
graceful and