“A thousand thanks,” I said dryly. “You are no doubt right.”
“And then,” she added, “one grows morbid when one thinks too much of oneself.”
“It was not wholly with myself I was occupied this time,” I said; “or at least with myself only in relation to you. I was thinking how unfit I am to take care of you; how little I merit the trust which M. le Comte reposed in me when he gave you into my keeping. I permit you to limp along behind me with bruised and wounded feet until you sink exhausted; I lead two scoundrels, whose pursuit I had foreseen, straight to your hiding-place and would have perished but for your courage and address; I stride along at top speed until you are ready to die of fatigue; I show myself a fool, a boor, and yet expect you to feel some kindness for me. Hereafter you will command this expedition; I am merely your servant; I am at your orders.”
“Very well,” she responded instantly, “I accept. My first order is that you sit here beside me;” and she patted the spot with her hand.
“A soldier does not sit in the presence of his commander,” I protested.
“What! Rebellion already!” she cried. “A fine beginning, truly!”
I sat down, a little giddy at this unexpected kindness.
“And now,” she continued severely, “you will repeat after me the following words: Mademoiselle de Chambray——”
“Mademoiselle de Chambray——”
“I know you are only a silly girl——”