“Yes, dearest; but surely you would not wish to add to the burdens she carries already. Besides, you belong to me a thousand times more than to her. If only I could take you back with me!”
“Couldn’t you?” came in a very small, low voice.
“My darling, it’s impossible. Affairs are much too critical just now, in Vendée. And that is why I cannot even go with you to England. But I shall send Louis in my place, to escort you and Madame Gaumont.”
At that she started away from her support as if galvanised. “Louis!” she exclaimed. “Oh no, he must not come!”
Gilbert turned his head and looked at her in surprise. “Why not? Surely you would be glad to have him if it can be managed?”
“Oh, but I am sure he could not leave the King. Do not ask him; I am sure he ought not to come!” All traces of tears had vanished.
He was still surprised, but rather pleased at her independence, and said, smiling: “You seem to rate Louis’ protection of his Majesty rather highly, dearest. As a matter of fact, Louis appears to have been doing the same thing himself, and I should therefore be only too glad to find a reason cogent enough to get him out of Paris at once.”
Gilbert was partly conscious indeed of the somewhat startled gaze which Lucienne turned on him at these words, but he was wholly ignorant of the sick horror which mounted to the girl’s heart as he went on. “I suppose you have not seen much of him recently? I am rather anxious about him; he has been dabbling a little too freely in politics of late.”
For an instant the room went round—but not to Gilbert. Then she asked breathlessly: “Politics? What sort of politics?”
The sharp anxiety in her voice warned the Marquis that he was alarming her. “Oh, just one of the usual Royalist schemes, rather more hare-brained than usual—but I hope—— It is all right, darling, there is no need to be alarmed; Louis is always lucky. And now I must go.”