"You have been deceived, or rather you wish to deceive me, my friend," sourly replied Dame Martha. "You have the appearance of one of those travelling vendors, who never return to see if people are satisfied with what they have bought."
"You would not confound me with those miserable creatures, madame," said Madelaine, redoubling her signals of intelligence, "if you knew who the person is who has recommended me to you."
"And who is it?"
"The Marquis of Létorière." . . .
At this name Dame Martha exchanged a rapid and meaning look with Madelaine. The two women understood each other. The portress was ignorant of the name, and even the existence of the Marquis.
Nevertheless the nurse, not wishing to excite her suspicions by recognizing too soon the name, replied roughly:
"Seek other dupes, my friend; I don't know this Marquis." . . .
"He is, nevertheless, the nephew of the Abbé de Vighan," replied Madelaine.
"The nephew of the Abbé de Vighan! . . . that's very different," answered the nurse; "why didn't you tell me that sooner? The nephew of M. de Vighan would recommend none but honest persons. And what have you to sell?"
"This piece of lace." And Madelaine cast an expressive glance on Martha. "It is very precious and beautiful from one end to the other; the princess may unroll it, and she will not find a defect in it."