"Were you married—that other night?"
So, then, she was woman after all, and curious! Her sudden speech came like a stab; but fortunately my dull nerves had not had time to change my face before a thought flashed into my mind. Could I not make merchandise of my sorrow? I pulled myself into control and looked her fair in the face.
"Madam," I said, "look at my face and read your own answer."
She looked, searching me, while every nerve of me tingled; but at last she shook her head. "No," she sighed. "I can not yet say." She did not see the sweat starting on my forehead.
I raised my kerchief over my head. "A truce, then, Madam! Let us leave the one question against the other for a time."
"Excellent! I shall get my answer first, in that case, and for nothing."
"How so?"
"I shall only watch you. As we are here now, I were a fool, worse than you, if I could not tell whether or not you are married. None the less, I commend you, I admire you, because you do not tell me. If you are not, you are disappointed. If you are, you are eager!"
"I am in any case delighted that I can interest Madam."
"Ah, but you do! I have not been interested, for so long! Ah, the great heavens, how fat was Mr. Pakenham, how thin was Mr. Calhoun! But you—come, Monsieur, the night is long. Tell me of yourself. I have never before known a savage."