“I have none that I own.”
I was silent. She looked away from me, tapping a foot on the ground. It was all a fight between her bitterness and her pride. With a woman the first conquers.
“Tell me,” she said in a moment, turning upon me, “do you come from him?”
“I come from him.”
“Commissioned to beg me to return?”
“No, mademoiselle. Nor would I insult you with such a message.”
“I can dispense with your interest in me, sir.”
Again she averted her face. Decidedly she required some knowing. By-and-by she spoke again, without looking round and more gently—
“How does M. de Lâge bear the loss of—the loss of his treasures?”
“He is, I fear, demented by it.”