“Great God!” she said, “what must I do?”
A passing smile appeared on the face of M. de Brevan; and he answered in his most persuasive manner,—
“Will you permit me to offer you some advice, madam?”
“Alas, sir! I beg you to do so for Heaven’s sake.”
“Well, this is the only plan that seems to me feasible. To-morrow morning I will rent in a quiet house a suitable lodging, less than modest, a little chamber. You will move into it, and await there your coming of age, or Daniel’s return. No detective will ever think of seeking the daughter of Count Ville-Handry in a poor needlewoman’s garret.”
“And I am to stay there alone, forsaken and lost?”
“It is a sacrifice which it seems to me you have to make for safety’s sake.”
She said nothing, weighing the two alternatives,—to remain in the house, or to accept M. de Brevan’s proposition. After a minute she said,—
“I will follow your advice, sir; only”—She was evidently painfully embarrassed, and covered with blushes.
“You see,” she said, after long hesitation, “all this will cost money. Formerly I used to have always a couple of hundred dollars in my drawers somewhere; but now”—