“Give her some food,” said Simon, “and make her comfortable. We’ve no grudge against her, as long as she doesn’t try to escape. We’re outside, remember,” he added, to Esmeralda.
The two men went out, and Esmeralda sunk into a chair. The woman put some food on the table and motioned Esmeralda to eat and drink. She drank some tea and nibbled at some bread and butter, though, as may be well understood, she was not much inclined for eating; but she deemed it best to put on a cheerful countenance and affect to take things coolly.
“Will you tell me your name?” she asked the woman.
The woman bit her lip, as if she found it difficult to resist the fascination of the sweet voice and the lovely, pleading eyes.
“My name don’t matter,” she said. “You’d best not talk.”
She glanced unconsciously toward the door.
Esmeralda smiled a little wearily.
“Why not?” she said, pleasantly. “There’s no harm in talking, surely, and I shall not say anything that I mind their hearing. Do you know how long I am to be kept here?”
The woman shook her head.
“I don’t know anything,” she said, “and I couldn’t tell you if I did. Them’s my orders, and I’ve got to obey them.”