“A thousand thanks,” I said. “I am quite myself again. I trust Mademoiselle will pardon my momentary weakness.”
She smiled happily as she looked at me.
“Oh, yes, Monsieur,” she answered softly; “I think I could find it in my heart to pardon a much more serious offence,” and her face grew rosy with sudden blushes, in fear, doubtless, that she had said too much. I could guess that she had seen little of the world, and that its strangeness frightened her.
Her companion forestalled me before I could find words for a reply.
“May I ask the name of our rescuer? We shall wish always to remember it with gratitude.”
“Paul de Marsan,” I answered simply.
He started, and I saw the girl’s face turn white.
“Liege to the Comte de Cadillac?” he asked quickly.
I bowed.
“I came to Montauban to see him,” I said, wondering at his emotion.