CHAPTER XXXIX
HOW MY DEAR LADY CAME BACK TO ME
I was sitting in one of our armchairs amid the leafy shade watching her knead dough with her two pretty fists. To this end she had rolled up the sleeves of her splendid gown; and thus I, hearkening to her story, must needs stare at her soft, round arms and yearn mightily to kiss their velvety smoothness and, instantly be-rating myself therefor, shifted my gaze from these temptations to my own unlovely figure, contrasting myself and my worn garments with her rich attire and proud and radiant beauty; she was again the great lady and far removed above such poor wretch as I, for all her pitiful tenderness.
"... and so when I plunged from the rock," she was saying, "I never thought to see this dear place again or the blessed sun! And I sank ... O deep—deep! Then, Martin, I seemed to be caught in some current, far down there in the darkness, that whirled and tossed me and swept me up behind the torrent. And in the rock was a great cavern sloping to the water, and there this current threw me, all breathless and nigh dead, Martin."
"God be thanked!" says I fervently.
"And there I lay all night, Martin, very sick and fearful. When day came I saw this great cave opened into a smaller and this into yet another. So I came to a passage in the rock, and because there was none other way for me, I followed this—and then—O Martin!"
"What?" quoth I, leaning forward.
"Have you ever been to the palace at Versailles, Martin!"
"Once, as a boy with my father."