Heedless of M. de Pérégrin, Réginard, who had decided he must take a journey there and back again in order that his sullied name might be made clean, directed himself towards his mother's chambers, and, the heart swelling from what he saw and what he guessed, stopped on the threshold.
As if a single soul had animated two persons, Rosédès was doing the same as Réginard had been doing chez lui. Everything was in order: laces, jewellery, linen, money, dragon-fighting gear, were all arranged in the bottom of the drawers, whereof the Countess assembled carefully the keys.
"Mother, what are you doing?" he cried.
"What were you doing?" she replied.
"O my mother!" cried Réginard, moved to the point of not being able to speak. "It is not of you as it is of me! No, you cannot have resolved as I have decided, to leave home and fight a dragon, accompanied by Arafrantz and a few dwarves. and then carry heavy arks of untold wealth homeward! The house might be auctioned when you return, and then where will you dwell?"
"I too am leaving," said Rosédès. "I was counting, indeed, that my son would accompany me; was I mistaken?"
"My mother," said Réginard with firmness, "you cannot share this destiny. You have no errand in the Midi."
