The smile returned to Monsieur Lomaque's lean face, and a curious light twinkled in his red-rimmed eyes as he began a fresh hole in the grass.
"Won't you go indoors, and take some coffee ?" asked Trudaine, touching the land-steward on the arm.
Monsieur Lomaque started a little and left his cane sticking in the ground.

"A thousand thanks, monsieur," he said; "may I be allowed to follow you ?" "I confess the beauty of the evening makes me a little unwilling to leave this place just yet." "Ah! the beauties of Nature--I feel them with you, Monsieur Trudaine; I feel them here." Saying this, Lomaque laid one hand on his heart, and with the other pulled his stick out of the grass.

He had looked as little at the landscape or the setting sun as Monsieur Justin himself.
They sat down, side by side, on the empty bench; and then there followed an awkward pause.

Submissive Lomaque was too discreet to forget his place, and venture on starting a new topic.

Trudaine was preoccupied, and disinclined to talk.