"What is the trouble, my dear?" said the baroness, in French.
"Eh bien, only this," said she: "I have dropped my ring in the brook. It is my emerald. I cannot reach it."
"Too bad! She has dropped her ring in the brook," said the baroness, in English, turning to me.
"If she will have the kindness to take me there," I said to the hostess, rising as I spoke, "I shall try to get it for her."
"M'sieur le Capitaine, you are very obliging," said she. Then, turning to Louison, she added in French: "Go with him. He will recover it for you."
It pleased and flattered me, the strategy of this wonderful young creature. She led me, with dainty steps, through a dewy garden walk into the trail.
"Parbleu!" she whispered, "is it not a shame to take you from your meat? But I could not help it. I had to see you; there is something I wish to say."
"A pretty girl is better than meat," I answered quickly. "I am indebted to you."
"My! but you have a ready tongue," said she. "It is with me a pleasure to listen. You are going away? You shall not return—perhaps?"
She was trying to look very gay and indifferent, but in her voice I could detect a note of trouble. The flame of passion, quenched for a little time by the return of peril and the smoke of gunpowder, flashed up in me.