It was eleven o'clock when the marquis returned to his salon. Jovelin rushed forward and threw his arms about him. His face sufficiently indicated the agonizing anxiety he had felt. "My dear friend," said Bois-Doré, "I deceived you; but rejoice, that man is no more; and I return with a light heart. Doubtless my child is asleep at this moment; let us not wake him. I will tell you----" "The child is not asleep," the mute replied with his pencil. "He divined my apprehensions: he is crying and praying and tossing about in his bed." "Let us go and comfort the dear heart!" cried Bois-Doré; "but look at me first, my friend, and see if I have no stain on my clothes made by that treacherous blood. I do not wish that the child should know fear or hatred at an age too early for the calmness of conscious strength." Lucilio relieved the marquis of his cloak, his helmet and his arms, and when they had ascended the stairs they found Mario, barefooted, at the door of his chamber. "Ah!" cried the child, clinging passionately to his uncle's long legs, and speaking to him with the familiarity which he did not as yet know to be contrary to the customs of the nobility, "so you have come back at last? You are not hurt, my dear uncle? No one has hurt you, eh? I thought that that wicked man meant to kill you, and I wanted to run after you! I was very unhappy! Another time, when you go out to fight, you must take me, since I am your nephew." "My nephew! my nephew! that is not enough," said the marquis taking him back to his bed. "I mean to be your father. Will that displease you, to be my son? And, by the way," he added, stooping to receive little Fleurial's caresses, who seemed to have realized and shared the distress of Jovelin and Mario, "here is a little friend of mine who no longer belongs to me. Here, Mario, you were so anxious to have him! I give him to you to console you for your unhappiness this evening." "Yes," said Mario, putting Fleurial beside him on his pillow, "I consent, on condition that he is to belong to us both, and is to love us both alike. But tell me, father, has the wicked man gone away forever?" "Yes, my son, forever." "And the king will punish him for killing your brother?" "Yes, my son, he will be punished." "What will they do to him?" inquired Mario, thoughtfully. "I will tell you later, my son. Think only how happy we are to be together." "They will never take me away from you?" "Never!" "Master Jovelin," he said, addressing the mute, "is it not a melancholy thing to think of changing this child's sweet mode of speech, which strikes so melodiously upon the ear? Nay, we will allow him to use the familiar form of address to me in private, since in his mouth that familiarity is a sign of affection." "Must I say _vous_ to you?" queried Mario in amazement. "Yes, my child, at least before other people. That is the custom." "Ah! yes, that is how I spoke to Monsieur l'Abbé Anjorrant! But I love you more than I loved him."