“By encouraging his downfall. See—I know I am taking my life in my hands, as it were, but I tell you this thing will do you harm when it goes abroad.”
She felt the honesty of his words, though they angered her. He seemed to impute some personal interest in Valmond. She would not have it from any man in the world.
“If you will pick up my handkerchief—ah, thank you! We must travel different roads in this matter. You have warned; let me prophesy. His Highness Valmond Napoleon will come out of this with more honour than yourself.”
“Thanks to you, then,” he said gallantly, for he admired her very stubbornness.
“Thanks to himself. I honestly believe that you will be ashamed of your part in this, one day.”
“In any case, I will force the matter to a conclusion,” he answered firmly. “The fantastic thing must end.”
“When?”
“Within a few days.”
“When all is over, perhaps you will have the honesty to come and tell me which was right—you or I. Goodbye.”
Elise was busy at her kitchen fire. She looked up, startled, as her visitor entered. Her heavy brow grew heavier, her eyes gleamed sulkily, as she dragged herself forward with weariness, and stood silent and resentful. Why had this lady of the Manor come to her? Madame Chalice scarcely knew how to begin, for, in truth, she wanted to be the girl’s friend, and she feared making her do or say some wild thing.