"Sir John," she said, speaking pretty broken English. "Then he is noble. Oh, comme il est gentil, comme il est beau!" and as quickly fell to cross-questioning me on my parentage and history.
It was in the thick of this that Miss Morland made her entrance. I do not know if it be a confession of weak-mindedness, or even of snobbishness (I hope not), but the fact was that since I had discovered Miss Morland's identity I did not judge her coldness and aloofness so hardly. I am disposed to think it was merely a reasonable attitude on my part produced by the knowledge of her circumstances, and what I set down as her trials. She bowed to me, and addressed some words to mademoiselle which, sympathetic in their import, were yet somewhat frigid in tone. Mademoiselle replied laughing:
"You are very good, my dear, but I am progressing. We are sailing into the land of romance and will find what we shall find there."
I lingered beyond what was necessary, and thus it happened that Miss Morland and I left the cabin together. Outside she spoke: "Is there any likelihood of a recurrence of the attack?"
"I don't think so," I answered. "But Mlle. Trebizond is a nervous subject."
It was the look in her eyes that made me suddenly realise my indiscretion. A light flashed in them, almost as if she would have struck me.
"Mlle. Châteray is almost well enough to dispense with a doctor's services," she said with an accent on the name.
"You must allow me to be the judge of that," I replied flushing. She was silent.
"Naturally," she said at last, and turned away.
The newspaper had stated that Princess Alix was sympathetic to her brother's attachment, but was she altogether so? I could not but attribute her coolness and her reticence to some scruple. She walked daily with her brother, and it was evident that she was fond of him, or why was she here? But how much of personal prejudice and of private conviction had she sacrificed on that pious altar?