"The matter is, my dear Jeanne," began Pierre, "that—"
But the explanation did not seem so very easy to give, for he stopped and could not go on.
"That?" repeated Madame Cayrol.
"I beg your pardon," resumed Pierre. "I am greatly embarrassed. In coming here I obeyed a sudden impulse. I did not think of the manner in which I should tell you what I have to say, and I see that I shall have to run a great risk of offending you."
Jeanne assumed a haughty air.
"Well, but, my dear friend, if what you have to say is so difficult, don't say it."
"Impossible!" retorted Pierre. "My silence would cause irreparable mischief. In mercy, Jeanne, make my task easier! Meet me half way! You have projects for to-night which are known. Danger threatens you. Take care!"
Jeanne shuddered. But controlling herself, she answered, laughing nervously:
"What rubbish are you talking about? I am at home, surrounded by my servants, and I have nothing to fear. I beg of you to believe me."
"You deny it!" exclaimed Pierre. "I expected as much. But you are only taking useless trouble. Come, Jeanne, I am the friend of your childhood; you have no reason to fear aught from me. I am only trying to be of use to you. You must know that, by my coming here, I know all. Jeanne, listen to me!"