"But you won't stay here," she said gently. "Oh no! Let me think!" and she thought with a child's oblivion of obstacles and a child's confidence. She imparted the wise result of her reflections to M. Giraud the next afternoon.
He came to the garden with his eyes fevered and his face drawn.
"You are ill?" said Pamela. "We will not work to-day."
"It's nothing," he replied.
"Tell me," said she.
M. Giraud looked out across the valley.
"Two travellers came up to Roquebrune yesterday. I met them as I walked home from here. I spoke to them and showed them the village, and took them by the short cut of the steps down to the railway station. They were from London. They talked of London and of Paris. It's as well visitors come up to Roquebrune rarely. I have not slept all night," and he clasped and unclasped his hands.
"Hannibal crossed the Alps," said Pamela. "I read it in your book," and then she shook a finger at him, just as the schoolmaster might have done to one of his refractory pupils.
"Listen," said she. "I have thought it all out."
The schoolmaster composed himself into the attentive attitude of a pupil.