“It was of myself I was speaking,” I explained.
“Another instance of your selfishness! Are you going to face the enemy and bid me run away? Depend upon it, I shall think twice before obeying.”
“This is an enemy which you will never be called upon to face, mademoiselle. I was thinking of that moment,—a moment not far distant,—when I have placed you in the hands of your friends and must bid you adieu.”
“To turn your face southward toward Poitiers? Inconstant man! I did not think you so eager!”
“No, mademoiselle; I turn back to Dange, as you know, on an errand of vengeance, and then——”
“To Poitiers on an errand of love. To the hero his reward!”
“Say rather on an errand of duty,” I corrected.
“It will become an errand of love also, once you have seen the lady—what is her name?”
“No matter,” I said shortly, and strode on in silence.
“M. de Tavernay,” she said in a provoking voice, keeping pace with me, “I should like to make you a wager.”