“The imagination of a young girl is more rapid than that of a woman,” he answered, laughing.
“A young girl has more to lose than a woman.”
“True; those who carry a treasure ought to be distrustful.”
“Let us quit such conventional language,” she said, “and talk seriously. You are to give a ball at Saint-James. I hear that your headquarters, arsenals, and base of supplies are there. When is the ball to be?”
“To-morrow evening.”
“You will not be surprised if a slandered woman desires, with a woman’s obstinacy, to obtain a public reparation for the insults offered to her, in presence of those who witnessed them. I shall go to your ball. I ask you to give me your protection from the moment I enter the room until I leave it. I ask nothing more than a promise,” she added, as he laid his hand on his heart. “I abhor oaths; they are too like precautions. Tell me only that you engage to protect my person from all dangers, criminal or shameful. Promise to repair the wrong you did me, by openly acknowledging that I am the daughter of the Duc de Verneuil; but say nothing of the trials I have borne in being illegitimate,—this will pay your debt to me. Ha! two hours’ attendance on a woman in a ball-room is not so dear a ransom for your life, is it? You are not worth a ducat more.” Her smile took the insult from her words.
“What do you ask for the gun?” said the count, laughing.
“Oh! more than I do for you.”
“What is it?”
“Secrecy. Believe me, my dear count, a woman is never fathomed except by a woman. I am certain that if you say one word of this, I shall be murdered on my way to that ball. Yesterday I had warning enough. Yes, that woman is quick to act. Ah! I implore you,” she said, “contrive that no harm shall come to me at the ball.”