On the terrace I found Mademoiselle already awaiting me. She was standing,
as often I had seen her stand, with her back turned towards me and her
elbows resting upon the balustrade. But as my step sounded behind her, she
turned, and stood gazing at me with a face so grief-stricken and pale that
I burned to unmask and set her torturing fears at rest. I doffed my hat
and greeted her with a silent bow, which she contemptuously disregarded.
"My lieutenant tells me, Mademoiselle," said I in my counterfeited voice,
"that it is your desire to bear Monsieur your father company upon this
journey of his to Paris."
"With your permission, sir," she answered in a choking voice.
"It is a matter for consideration, Mademoiselle," I pursued. "There are in
it many features that may have escaped you, and which I shall discuss with
you if you will honour me by stepping into the garden below."
"Why will not the terrace serve?"
"Because I may have that to say which I would not have overheard."
She knit her brows and stared at me as though she would penetrate the black
cloth that hid my face.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297