"I cannot. I know nothing of her whereabouts."
"Tell me all you know about this trick by which you personated her."
At that moment a man dressed as a Venetian gondolier approached to claim her for a dance.
"I must know everything at once," I whispered hurriedly. "You must refuse him."
It was a test of my power. If she went off to dance I should accept it as a sign of defeat.
"I must not refuse. I dare not," she said nervously.
"You understand what it means," I replied in the same undertone.
The man came up, and the nervous movements of my companion's fingers showed me something of her agitation.
"This is our dance, I think," he murmured, bowing.
"Yes, I—yes, it is," and she half rose from her seat, but then sank back again. "But I am not quite well enough to dance. I am sitting here for the cooler air. Please excuse me."