"There is no task so difficult," said Madame, half talking, as I thought, to herself, "unless it be undertaken by the one man who can do it without an effort—no task so difficult as that of making a woman happy. Even her mother cannot be sure of the wisdom of interference. I always remember some words of your friend, John Turner, 'When in doubt, do nothing,' and he is a wise man, I think."
The Vicomtesse was an economist of words, and explained herself no further. We remained for some moments in silence, and it was she who at length broke it.
"Thank you," she said, "for all your thought and care in verifying the details of the story you have told me."
"I might have kept it from you, Madame," answered I, "and thus spared you some sorrow. Perhaps you had been happier in ignorance."
"I think, my dear friend, I am better knowing it. Shall we tell Lucille?"
I turned and looked at Madame, whose manner bespoke my attention. There was more in the words than a single question—indeed, I thought there were many questions.
"That shall be as you decide."
"I ask your opinion, mon ami?"
"I am not in favour of keeping any secrets from Mademoiselle."
For a time Madame seemed lost in thought.