“‘The blonde lady!’” broke in Brant.
“Madam dee Rennet,” explained Zozo.
“The devil!” said Brant.
“Well, sir, knowin’ that, as I done, and knowin’ that there couldn’t be nothin’ to it—no lady would chuck you over her shoulder, Mr. Brant, sir—but only jist that her mind wasn’t at ease with regard to the dark lady—whereas the stars show clear as ever they showed any thin’ that the dark lady was only temporary and threatened, and nothin’ reel serious—why, I made so free as jist to go right straight to Madam dee Rennet and ease her mind on that point—and I did.”
“Great heavens!” Brant yelled. “You infernal meddler! what have you done? I don’t know a dark woman in the world! What have you said?—oh, curse it!” he cried, as he realized, from the pain of its extinction, that hope had been alive in his heart, “what have you done?—you devil!”
He turned on his heel and rushed off toward Madame de Renette’s house.
“This does settle it,” he thought. “There’s no getting an idea like that out of a woman’s head.”
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“I understand,” he said, as he hurriedly presented himself to the lady of his love, “that a madman has been here—“