He saw the swift colour rush over her face, and flee in an instant, leaving her ivory pallor still more pale. Instead of answering him she got up, and took the remains of the loaf to put away in the press against the wall—a pretext, the questioner was sure, to withdraw her face from his further observation.
"Yes, he was surprised," she said in a low voice, her back to him. "He was sitting at table in the farm. It was all over very suddenly. He was . . . he was shot through the head. He did not suffer. . . . O my God," she burst out suddenly, "if only I knew whether it was treachery or no—and if so, whose!"
Yes, there were indeed hidden fires there! The vehemence, the breaking passion in her voice, had somehow jerked La Vireville, lame as he was, to his feet. The question flashed through him. What then had been Mme. Rozel's relations with the slain 'Alexis' that she felt his loss thus acutely? Purely those of political partisanship? Or had she, perchance, been his mistress? The thing was not unknown among the Royalist leaders in the West of France, though it was rare. There was Charles du Boishardy himself as an example—to be, in fact, in a few weeks a fatal example—of laxity in that respect, and, to cite a greater name, Charette's reputation was by no means conformable to that of the unblemished first leaders of the grande guerre, the Vendée, whose work he carried on.
With that cry, wrung so evidently from a torn heart, M. Alexis' agent had swung round from the press, and was looking full at the man who faced her across the table by which he was supporting himself.
"Que diable!" thought the émigré, "I verily believe she thinks I had something to do with that ball in the head!"
Whether his surmise was painted on his countenance, or for whatever reason, Mme. Rozel next instant recovered herself, and removed those accusing eyes—if they were accusing.
"Pardon me, Monsieur," she said hurriedly, "and pray be seated again. I was so . . . so intimately associated with the plans and hopes of Monsieur Alexis that I have felt his death, I confess, very deeply."
"That is easy to understand, Madame," replied her guest, dropping back, at her bidding, in his chair. "You will perhaps permit me to offer my most sincere condolences on what is, besides, a very great loss to our cause. I hope, however, that since I am here by M. du Boishardy's express wish, and not by any desire of my own, that I may count on your co-operation?"
She too had sat down again, after that brief outburst, and seemed to have got rid, perhaps by its means, of some of her latent hostility. "As long as I can, Monsieur, certainly," she said, sighing, her cheek on her hand. "But my work here is done, and I leave in a day or two for the Channel Islands."
And at that piece of information La Vireville no longer felt any doubts as to the nature of the bond which had united her to the departed leader. He had another thought, too, about the fundamental drawback of employing a woman in a position such as hers—a point on which he kept on other counts an open mind, even recognising certain advantages in it. "A man," he said to himself now, "would not resign a post like this just because his superior officer was killed. A change of leadership is just the time when she could have proved herself of most use."