CHAPTER XXIV. SAINT MARTIN'S EVE 

Uneasy in his mind, seeking some way to tell the thing and acquit himself of the painful task before him, Garnache took a turn in the apartment. 

Mademoiselle leaned against the table, which was still burdened by the empty coffin, and observed him. His ponderings were vain; he could find no way to tell, his story. She had said that she did not exactly love this Florimond, that her loyalty to him was no more than her loyalty to her father's wishes. Nevertheless, he thought, what manner of hurt must not her pride receive when she learned that Florimond had brought him home a wife? Garnache was full of pity for her and for the loneliness that must be hers hereafter, mistress of a vast estate in Dauphiny, alone and friendless. And he was a little sorry for himself and the loneliness which, he felt, would be his hereafter; but that was by the way. 

At last it was she herself who broke the silence. 

"Monsieur," she asked him, and her voice was strained and husky, "were you in time to save Florimond?" 

"Yes, mademoiselle," he answered readily, glad that by that question she should have introduced the subject. "I was in time." 

"And Marius?" she inquired. "From what I heard you say, I take it that he has suffered no harm." 

"He has suffered none. I have spared him that he might participate in the joy of his mother at her union with Monsieur de Tressan." 
Who was uncomfortable?
Uneasy in his mind, seeking some way to tell the thing and acquit himself of the painful task before him, Garnache took a turn in the apartment. 