I buried my face in my hands.
“I thank you, madam,” I said, with emotion. “He lies at least in better security than I.”
“Well, I won’t answer for that,” she replied, “till I come to hear what you’re after.”
I looked up.
“O, madam, my benefactress!” I cried. “It is much to expect, perhaps; but do you not know me?”
“O, perfectly, madam!” she said, with a curtsey that made her balloon. “We make it our pains to know all about our visitors. Believe me, you was under surveillance from the moment you stepped ashore at the Mole. It was not very likely, was it, that we should overlook the arrival of her as seemed wishin’ to reap the discord she had sowed among us a while back? Be sure we know you, madam, well enough, and the reputation you built for yourself in Paris too!”
Startled as I was, I had a difficulty to refrain from retorting that my reputation would bear comparison with hers. But I bit my lip on the temptation, and for the moment took refuge from everything in tears, to which, however, she listened silent.
“I did not refer to that,” I cried, looking up with clasped hands and swimming eyes, “but to the goodness of a great and beautiful lady, who once succoured a poor girl in distress.”
“And I include that too in my knowledge,” said she; “and much gratitude you’ve shown to the class as befriended you.”
“Gratitude!” I cried. “O, believe me, that, until I reached here, I never even guessed that, in conspiring against royalty, I was conspiring against you, my saviour.”