'No! But I imagine now that vixens must be adorable.'
'Do not jest, Messire,' she rejoined more earnestly. 'I was shrewish last night and ill-tempered and unjust. Will you tell your master that this morning——'
'I will tell him, Madame, that this morning you are perfect, whatever you may have been last night.'
Poor Gilles by now would have given all that he possessed in the world to be allowed to go. He felt that this interview, which he had neither sought nor hoped for, was like a dangerous trap into which Fate and his own temperament might hurl him headlong. Every minute that he spent in this woman's company rendered her more desirable to him, rendered him more completely a slave to her charm. But for some strange and subtle reason she seemed disinclined to let him go just yet, and even now when, remembering his best manners, Gilles started on the preliminaries of a most elaborate farewell bow, she went on with a quick catching of her breath and a slight hesitation, which brought a soft glow to her cheeks:
'Messire Gilles——'
'At your service, Madame.'
'Was Monseigneur de Froidmont very angered with me?'
'He was,' Gilles admitted, 'last night.'
"But ... but....'
'His anger hath since melted like snow in the spring.'