He had unconsciously disclosed the telltale marks upon his neck.
At the sight Mlle. Remy grew pale. There was much about this young man that recalled her brother Henri, even these terrible finger-marks. All at once she remembered the meeting of Mardi Gras, when her brother insulted him and pulled her away.
Why?
It was because this young Marot admired her, and because he and her brother were enemies. She saw it now for the first time. Paris was full of political enemies. Yet, in awe of her brother's judgment and like a well-bred French girl, she dared not raise her eyes to his,—with the half-minute of formalities she hurried away. But as she turned she gave him one quick glance that combined politeness, shyness, fear, curiosity, and pity,—a glance that went straight to his heart and increased its tumult.
A pair of sharp, steel-blue eyes regarded him furtively, and, while half veiled by the long lashes, lost not a breath or gesture of this meeting and parting,—saw Jean standing, hat in hand, partly bowed, speechless, with his soul in his handsome face.
The one black eye of the maimed grisette saw only Mlle. Fouchette. If that scrutiny could not fathom Mlle. Fouchette's mind, it was perhaps because the mind of Mlle. Fouchette was not sufficiently clear.
"Allons!" said the latter young woman, in a tone that scarcely broke his revery.
There is often more expression in a simple touch than in a multitude of words. The unhappy grisette felt this from the sympathetic hand of the young man slipped into hers at parting. At a little distance she turned to see Jean and Mlle. Fouchette enter a cab and drive towards the right bank.
"Çà!" she murmured, "but if that petite moucharde had a heart it would be his!"
During the next half-hour Mlle. Fouchette unconsciously gained greatly in Jean's estimation by saying nothing. They went to the Crédit Lyonnais, in Boulevard des Italiens, to Rue St. Honoré, to the "agent de location,"—getting money, taking a list of furniture, seeing about the sale of his lease. In all of this business Mlle. Fouchette showed such a clear head and quick calculation that from first being amused, Jean at last leaned upon her implicitly.