"My friends," she said, "deem it advisable that my whereabouts should not be known. I certainly am very anxious that my incognita should be preserved."
She paused, and Wrayson, without hesitation, answered her unspoken question. Unconsciously, too, he found himself using the same manner of address as the others.
"Madame," he said, "whatever you choose to tell me will be sacred."
She bowed her head slightly.
"I am going to tell you a good deal," she said, glancing across at Louise.
Louise opened her lips as though about to intervene. Madame de Melbain continued, however, without a break.
"I am going to tell you more than may seem necessary," she said, "because I believe that I am one of those unfortunate persons whose evil lot it is to bring unhappiness upon their friends. So far as I can avoid this, Mr. Wrayson, I mean to. Further—it is possible that I may ask you—presently—to render me a service."
Wrayson bowed low. He felt that she was already well aware of his willingness.
"First, then, let me tell you," she continued, leaning back in her chair, and looking away across the valley with eyes whose light was wholly reminiscent, "that we three were schoolgirls together, Louise, Amy—whom you know better, perhaps, as the Baroness de Sturm—and myself. We were at a convent near Brussels. There were not many pupils, and we three were friends....
"We had a great deal of liberty—more liberty, perhaps, than our friends would have approved of. We worked, it is true, in the mornings, but in the afternoons we rode or played tennis in the Bois. It was there that I met Prince Frederick, who afterwards became my husband.