“I see, my dear, that you have sacrificed yourself,” said Reine, smiling in spite of herself. “I doubt if Luquin will congratulate you very much on this disinterested devotion. But where is this brave captain, and when will he return?”
“This evening or to-morrow morning, mademoiselle; the fishermen met him near Trefus. He was obliged to lessen the speed of his tartan to accommodate the large ships that he was escorting from Nice.”
“And do you think that he would like to have you give ribbons to this strolling singer?”
“By Our Lady! whether he likes it or not does not matter to me. If it is necessary to obtain some amusement for my dear mistress I would not hesitate for a cheap piece of ribbon.”
“Ah, Stephanette, Stephanette! you are a real coquette. I have seen the sharp black eyes of this vagabond looking into yours more than once.”
“That shows, mademoiselle, that he approves of Lu-quin’s taste, and my captain ought to feel flattered by it,” answered Stephanette, smiling.
“You are wrong; you will make your betrothed angry,” replied Reine, with a more serious expression.
“Ah, my dear mistress, cannot one love her betrothed faithfully and tenderly, and amuse herself with the flatteries of a vagabond foreigner, as you call him?”
Reine took this response, to which Stephanette had attached no significance, as an allusion to her own thoughts.
She looked at her attendant sternly, and said, with an imperious air, “Stephanette!”