"If monsieur will tell me the little word?" she asked innocently.
He burst into laughter.
"No, no; I am not to be caught so easy as that, my girl."
"Oh, come, monsieur captain," Gilles urged, "many and many a fellow goes in and out of Paris without a passport. The rules are a net to stop big fish and let the small fry go. What harm will it do to my Lord Mayenne, or you, or anybody, if you have the gentleness to let three poor servants through to their dying mother?"
"It desolates me to hear of her extremity," the captain answered, with a fine irony, "but I am here to do my duty. I am thinking, my dear, that you are some great lady's maid?"
He was eying her sharply, suspiciously; she made haste to protest:
"Oh, no, monsieur; I am servant to Mme. Mesnier, the grocer's wife."
"And perhaps you serve in the shop?"
"No, monsieur," she said, not seeing his drift, but on guard against a trap. "No, monsieur; I am never in the shop. I am far too busy with my work. Monsieur does not seem to understand what a servant-lass has to do."
For answer, he took her hand and lifted it to the light, revealing all its smooth whiteness, its dainty, polished nails.