"I think so, sir," said Perrine gently.
"But there, I don't wish you to understand entirely. There are those around me who ought to help me. There are certain ones who do not want my boy to return; it is to their interest that he should not come back, so they try to think that he is dead. My boy dead! Could he be? Could God strike me such a terrible blow? They try to believe it, but I will not. No, I will not! It can't be! Oh, what should I do if my boy was dead!"
Perrine's eyes were no longer fixed on the blind man's face; she had turned her face from him as though he could see her own.
"I talk to you frankly, little girl," continued the old man, "because I need your help. They are going to try and tempt you again to spy for them. I have warned you; that is all that I can do."
They could now see the factory chimneys of Fercheux. Still a few more rods and they came to the village. Perrine, who was trembling, could only find words to say in a broken voice: "Monsieur Vulfran, you may trust me. I will serve you faithfully with all my heart."
CHAPTER XXIII
GRANDFATHER'S COMPANION
THAT evening, when the tour of the factories was over, instead of returning to his office as was his custom, M. Vulfran told Perrine to drive straight to the chateau.
For the first time she passed through the magnificent iron gates, a masterpiece of skill that a king had coveted, so it was said, these wonderful iron gates which one of France's richest merchants had bought for his chateau.