“That is only one of the messages, mademoiselle,” I replied after a pause in the same stilted tone. “Have I your permission to report the second?”
I guessed she was beginning to see the absurdity of it, for she turned slightly away from me and bowed, not trusting herself to speak.
“My brother-in-law, M. Stefan Madrillo, desired me to bring you an assurance of his best wishes.”
“Have you any messages from the children also, monsieur?” she asked quickly, with a swift flash of her glorious eyes.
I kept it up for another round. “I am honoured by being able to assure you that their boy appreciated to the full the bon-bons which were the outcome of your distinguished generosity when in Paris, and retains his appetite for delicacies; but the little girl, not yet being able to speak, has entrusted me with no more than some gurgles and coos. To my profound regret I cannot reproduce them verbatim. May I have the honour of conveying your reply?”
She kept her face turned right away from me and did not answer.
“I have yet another message, mademoiselle, if your patience is not exhausted,” I said after a pause.
“Still another, monsieur?”
“Still another, mademoiselle.”
“From whom, monsieur?”