“It is Citizen Thibaut.”
“Citizen——” (she made a wry mouth of it). “Then, if I can find the wherewithal to reward your gallantry, citizen, will you leave me to myself?”
“Mademoiselle, if only I could believe none other would impose himself on that sweet duet!”
She shrugged her shoulders fretfully.
“Monsieur, monsieur, you assume a father’s privilege. Has my misfortune placed me beyond the pale of courtesy? or has a swineherd no title to the considerations of decency?”
“Nay, mademoiselle; it is that your beauty and your proud innocence make so many appeals to both.”
My obstinacy seemed a goad to her anger.
“You exaggerate the importance of your service,” she cried. “Either of those great strong men could have crushed you like an old nut——”
She seemed to struggle a moment with herself—without avail.
“For you are very little,” she added.