"Monsieur is preparing to leave?" she asked as if more than afraid of a reply. I could see she had some purpose in the question.
"Yes, I leave Paris to-day."
"To-day?" she echoed.
"Yes, but I would return and find you again; I could not depart from France without finding and thanking you for all your kindness. In truth I am glad you came, for——." I tried to say more, but the words left my lips sounding so cold and meaningless the sentence died away incomplete.
Florine stood there, vaguely watching me as though she did not understand.
"Leave France?" she repeated, her tone expressing the hope she had not heard aright.
I had already said much more than I intended, for I was not fully aware of Jerome's intentions, and desired to say nothing which would reveal them.
"Leave France?" she urged again, "Monsieur—" she halted for the word quite naturally.
"De Mouret," I supplied, and for the first time she knew my name; surely it was little enough to trust one with who had given me my life.
"Monsieur de Mouret is to leave France?"