'Farewell, then,' said the Baron, wringing the minister's hand, and
adding, almost to himself, 'Alas! I am weary of these shifts!' and
weary indeed he seemed, for as the ground became so steep that the
beck danced noisily down its channel, he could not keep up the
needful speed, but paused, gasping for breath, with his hand on his
side. 'Beranger was off his pony in an instant, assuring Follet
that it ought to be proud to be ridden by his father, and exhaling
his own exultant feelings in caresses to the animal as it gallantly
breasted the hill. The little boy had never been so commended
before! He loved his father exceedingly; but the Baron, while ever
just towards him, was grave and strict to a degree that the ideas
even of the sixteenth century regarded as severe. Little Eustacie
with her lovely face, her irrepressible saucy grace and audacious
coaxing, was the only creature to whom he ever showed much
indulgence and tenderness, and even that seemed almost against his
will and conscience. His son was always under rule, often blamed,
and scarcely ever praised; but it was a hardy vigorous nature, and
respectful love throve under the system that would have crushed or
alienated a different disposition. It was not till the party had
emerged from the wood upon a stubble field, where a covey of
partridges flew up, and to Beranger's rapturous delight furnished a
victim for Ysonde, that M. de Ribaumont dismounted from the pony,
and walking towards home, called his son to his side, and asked him
how he had learnt the intentions of the Count and the Chevalier.
Beranger explained how Eustacie had come to warn him, and also told
what she had said of Diane de Ribaumont, who had lately, by her
father's request, spent a few weeks at the chateau with her
cousins.
'My son,' said the Baron, 'it is hard to ask of babes caution and
secrecy; but I must know from thee what thy cousin may have heard
of our doings?'
'I cannot tell, father,' replied Beranger; 'we played more than we
talked. Yet, Monsieur, you will not be angry with Eustacie if I
tell you what she said to me to-day?'
'Assuredly not, my son.'
'She said that her father would take her away if he knew what M. le
Baron read, and what he sung.'
'Thou hast done well to tell me, my son. Thinkest thou that this
comes from Diane, or from one of the servants?'
'Oh, from Diane, my father; none of the servants would dare to say
such a thing.'