"Well," said la baronne, glancing up from the lounge on which she lay in her salon and speaking in her usual cold tones, "he may go. What is there to detain him? The surgeon says he is fit to travel, does he not? His was but a fit from long riding in the sun."
"Yes, my lady—but——"
"But what?"
"My lady, he is a gentleman—none can doubt that. He—he is desirous to speak with you—to——"
"To speak with me?" and from her dark eyes there shot a gleam that the woman before her did not understand. Nor did she understand why her ladyship's colour left her face so suddenly. "To speak with me?"
"Yes, my lady. To, he says, thank you for your charity to him a stranger—for your hospitality."
"My hospitality!" and she drew a long breath. Then, and it seemed to the waiting maid as if her mistress had grown suddenly hoarse, "He said that?"
"He said so, madame. He begged you would not refuse to let him make the only return that lay in his power."
"I will not see him."
"Madame!"