"Oh, no; she is English."
"English! But her name is French."
"It may not be hers. She is perhaps sent here to be forgotten. It is sad, very sad!"
"Apart from this loss of memory, from this forgetfulness of herself, is she in health?"
"She is strong, she is well otherwise. It is only her mind that is gone. She gripped my hand once; it was the grip of a strong young girl. She is lithe, she is well formed. If I had been like her when I was her age I should have been proud. I brought some flowers to the house one day. 'Who are these for?' my master asked. 'I thought mademoiselle would like them,' I answered. He frowned, and taking them in his hands crushed them and threw them to the ground. 'That is not part of your duties,' he said. I brought no more flowers. There are some strange things, some things I cannot understand. Do you come to help the poor lady? Are you related to her?"
"We are not related to her, but we will help her if it is in our power."
"Heaven will reward you for it."
"What do you mean by saying there are strange things, things you cannot understand?"
"For one--why does the master say she will not live, when, but for her loss of memory, she is strong and well?"
"Oh, he says that, does he?"