They were in the farther salon, not many people near. He turned upon her suddenly, with a look which brought the colour to her face, "Do you know, mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful woman in the world!"
Hélène shook her head, a faint smile struggling with instant disgust and alarm. She looked round, but saw no one who could release her from this rough admirer. She was obliged to turn to him again, and listened to him with lowered eyes, a recollection of her mother's words weighing now upon her brain.
"The first time I saw you, mademoiselle," said Ratoneau, "was in this room. You were handing coffee with that cousin of yours—young La Marinière."
He saw the girl's face quiver and grow pale. His own changed, and his smile became unpleasant. He had not meant to mention that fellow, now shut up safely somewhere—it was strange, by the bye, that Simon had never come back to report himself and take his money! However, as he had let Angelot's name fall, there might be some advantage to be had out of it.
"I see his father is not here to-night," he said. "Sensible man, his father."
"How should he be here!" said Hélène, turning her head away. "He is gone to Paris to find him. How could he be here, dancing and laughing—I ask myself, how can anybody—"
She spoke half aside, breaking off suddenly.
"Yourself, for instance?" said Ratoneau, staring at her. "And why should you shut yourself up and make the whole world miserable, because your cousin is a fool? But you have not done so."
"Because it is impossible, I am not free."
"What would you be doing now, if you were free?"