A slight flush, partly of shame, partly of pleasure, rose to de Sigognac’s cheek at this speech.  If on the one side his pride revolted at the idea of being under an obligation to such a person as the pedant, on the other he was touched and gratified by this kind proposition so frankly made, and which, moreover, accorded so well with his own secret desires.  He feared also that if he refused the actor’s kindly-meant offer he would wound his feelings, and perhaps miss an opportunity that would never be afforded to him again.  It is true that the idea of a descendant of the noble old house of Sigognac travelling in the chariot of a band of strolling players, and making common cause with them, was rather shocking at first sight, but surely it would be better than to go on any longer leading his miserable, hopeless life in this dismal, deserted place.  He wavered between those two decisive little monosyllables, yes and no, and could by no means reach a satisfactory conclusion, when Isabelle, who had been watching the colloquy with breathless interest, advanced smilingly to where he was standing somewhat apart with Blazius, and addressed the following words to him, which speedily put an end to all his uncertainty: 

“Our poet, having fallen heir to a fortune, has lately left us, and his lordship would perhaps be good enough to take his place.  I found accidentally, in opening a volume of Ronsard’s poems that lay upon the table in his room, a piece of paper with a sonnet written upon it, which must be of his composition, and proves him not unaccustomed to writing in verse.  He could rearrange our parts for us, make the necessary alterations and additions in the new plays we undertake, and even perhaps write a piece for us now and then.  I have now a very pretty little Italian comedy by me, which, with some slight modifications, would suit us nicely, and has a really charming part for me.”

With her last words, accompanied though they were with a smile, she gave the baron such a sweet, wistful look that he could no longer resist; but the appearance of Pierre at this moment with a large omelette created a diversion, and interrupted this interesting conversation.  They all immediately gathered round the table, and attacked the really good breakfast, which the old servant had somehow managed to put before them, with great zest.  As to de Sigognac, he kept them company merely out of politeness, and trifled with what was on his plate while the others were eating, having partaken too heartily of the supper the night before to be hungry now, and, besides, being so much preoccupied with weightier matters that he was not able to pay much attention to this.

After the meat was finished, and while the chariot was being made ready for a start, Isabelle and Serafina expressed a desire to go into the garden, which they looked down upon from the court.

“I am afraid,” said de Sigognac, as he aided them to descend the unsteady, slippery stone steps, “that the briers will make sad work with your dresses, for thorns abound in my neglected garden, though roses do not.”