“Ah, one who interests the young person now before me, eh?”
“And I want you to stop them, monsieur! I want––”
“Child, child, whom am I to stop?”
“Colonel Lopez, monsieur. The American escaped once, but mademoiselle gave him up again. He’d saved mademoiselle’s life, too. And mine.”
The veteran soldier rubbed his finger tips on his bald, bullet-like head. “He saves her, and she gives him to Lopez. He must be an important species of American!”
“Yes, yes, monsieur.”
“There, don’t worry. His Majesty will pardon your friend to-morrow–if,” he added to himself, “only from habit.”
“But Lopez will shoot him before the Emperor knows.”
The marshal had shrewd eyes, and now they opened wide. “Getting more important, our American!” he grumbled uneasily. “Berthe, did your mistress know that Lopez would shoot him before he could be pardoned?”
“Oh yes, monsieur.”