“Damn what happened elsewhere! I don’t yet know what happened here.”
I put a hand on his arm. Mlle. Malo was looking hard at me, but I wouldn’t let her see I knew it. “I’m going to leave you to hear the whole story now,” I said to Réchamp.
“But there isn’t any story for him to hear!” she broke in. She pointed at the serene front of the château, looking out across its gardens to the unscarred fields. “We’re safe; the place is untouched. Why brood on other horrors—horrors we were powerless to help?”
Réchamp held his ground doggedly. “But the man’s name is a curse and an abomination. Wherever he went he spread ruin.”
“So they say. Mayn’t there be a mistake? Legends grow up so quickly in these dreadful times. Here—” she looked about her again at the peaceful scene—“here he behaved as you see. For heaven’s sake be content with that!”
“Content?” He passed his hand across his forehead. “I’m blind with joy...or should be, if only...”
She looked at me entreatingly, almost desperately, and I took hold of Réchamp’s arm with a warning pressure.
“My dear fellow, don’t you see that Mlle. Malo has been under a great strain? La joie fait peur —that’s the trouble with both of you!”
He lowered his head. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He took her hand And kissed it. “I beg your pardon. Greer’s right: we’re both on edge.”
“Yes: I’ll leave you for a little while, if you and Mr Greer will excuse me.” She included us both in a quiet look that seemed to me extremely noble, and walked slowly away toward the château. Réchamp stood gazing after her for a moment; then he dropped down on one of benches at the edge of the path. He covered his face with his hands. “Scharlach—Scharlach!” I heard him say.