"If it is," answered Pierre, "I shall say I received it in a duel! Then I shall be great--glorious! and all the pretty ladies will love me!"
She laughed,--but looked grave a moment afterwards.
"You must never say what is not true," she said. "It is wrong to deceive any one,--even in a small matter."
Duprèz gazed up at her wonderingly, feeling very much like a chidden child.
"Never say what is not true!" he thought. "Mon Dieu! what would become of my life?"
It was a new suggestion, and he reflected upon it with astonishment. It opened such a wide vista of impossibilities to his mind.
Meanwhile old Güldmar was engaged in pouring out wine for the other young men, talking all the time.
"I tell thee, Thelma mine," he said seriously, "something must be very wrong with our Sigurd. The poor lad has always been gentle and tractable, but to-day he was like some wild animal for mischief and hardihood. I grieve to see it! I fear the time may come when he may no longer be a safe servant for thee, child!"
"Oh, father!"--and the girl's voice was full of tender anxiety--"surely not! He is too fond of us to do us any harm--he is so docile and affectionate!"
"Maybe, maybe!" and the old farmer shook his head doubtfully. "But when the wits are away the brain is like a ship without ballast--there is no safe sailing possible. He would not mean any harm, perhaps,--and yet in his wild moods he might do it, and be sorry for it directly afterwards. 'Tis little use to cry when the mischief is done,--and I confess I do not like his present humor."
"By-the-by," observed Lorimer, "that reminds me! Sigurd has taken an uncommonly strong aversion to Phil. It's curious but it's a fact. Perhaps it is that which upsets his nerves?"
"I have noticed it myself," said Errington, "and I'm sorry for it, for I've done him no harm that I can remember. He certainly asked me to go away from the Altenfjord, and I refused,--I'd no idea he had any serious meaning in his request. But it's evident he can't endure my company."
"Ah, then!" said Thelma simply and sorrowfully, "he must be very ill,--because it is natural for every one to like you."
She spoke in perfect good faith and innocence of heart; but Errington's eyes flashed and he smiled--one of those rare, tender smiles of his which brightened his whole visage.