“Nay, mademoiselle, I spoke the common fashion of more trivial times than these; and I ask your pardon. It is to save you from the possibility of insult that I have wandered and starved these many days.”
She looked at me very gravely.
“I foresee no danger in these solitudes. I am sorry, monsieur; but I cannot accept your service.”
She rose to her feet and I to mine.
“Mademoiselle,” I cried, “be wise to reconsider the question! A delicate and high-born lady, solitary and defenceless amongst these barbarous hills! But I myself, on my journey hither, have encountered more than one perilous rogue!”
She shook her head.
“I take it as I find it. Besides, I have always a covert into which I can slip on menace of a storm.”
“But this is madness!”
“By monsieur’s account that is the present condition of our family,” she said, frigidly.
“See, mademoiselle—I ask nothing but that I may remain near you, to help and protect, your guard and your servant in one.”