"Ma foi! it is quite true what Père Celestine says—nothing is taught in England but heresy. The Fours in Paris are places of confinement, formed by a Monsieur d'Argenson, wherein all wanderers and vagabonds found in the streets are shut up, till the best are drafted off to the army, and several of these choice recruits fell to the lot of M. de Boisguiller. So you had an escape, my poor boy; they would positively have eaten you!"
"You are very patronising, Angelique," said I, amused by the girl's manner; "pardon me, but how old are you?"
"One year older than my mistress."
"And she will be——"
"Nineteen by the next least of St. Malo; but hush, you must not talk any more. You are looking quite flushed already; now taste this."
In perfect innocence she put her plump white arm round my neck, raised my head upon her pretty shoulder, took the silver cup from the guéridon, and poured between my lips some of the cooling liquid it contained.
"You are kind to me as a sister," said I.
"And I have nursed you so long, that I quite feel like one."
Her large dark eyes looked kindly into mine, and I could see my face reflected in them.
"So long?" I murmured.