"No."
"Or that he is—as I have suspected—shielding the person responsible for the ambush, the person who, I suppose, sent the necessary information to the Bonapartists?"
Avoye shook her head.
"What is it, then? Have I not a right to know?"
Yes, she had, she had! Was she a woman who needed to be "spared" any more than she, Avoye, herself? Mme de Villecresne lifted her head.
"People are saying that it was Aymar himself who sent the information."
Mme de la Rocheterie drew a long breath. Her hands clenched themselves on the arms of her chair, her eyes sparkled. Instead of being withered by the blow, she actually looked younger, rising to meet it. She laughed.
"As 'people' were about it, they might have invented a more likely slander. This one is somewhat ludicrously wanting in plausibility. Aymar betray his cherished Eperviers! But I thank you for telling me, since the imbecility of human nature has always delighted me."
She stooped to replace a piece of wood fallen from the fire, and, raising herself rather suddenly, caught sight of Avoye's expression. Her own changed with startling rapidity.
"Avoye! Is it possible! . . . Am I to take you for one of the imbeciles?"