Flora stared at her wild-eyed. "Who are your enemies?"
Gabrielle looked about her, as if to be assured that no one was within hearing, and then whispered into Flora’s ear: "Henri will never tell me, but they hunt us down. Ever since I was a child we have fled from place to place, hiding. I have often been roused at night by clash of swords and Henri’s voice, crying: ’I am here!’ But his sword is always the strongest, and we have always escaped."
"Surely you will be safe in Paris," Flora said.
Gabrielle sighed. "Why, it seems we dare not enter Paris yet. When we left Madrid in your company Henri told me we were journeying to Paris, but now we linger here outside the walls until Henri has seen some one—I know not who; and while we linger here I must keep in-doors."
Flora looked mischievous. "Perhaps Henri is jealous, and tells this tale to keep you to himself."
Gabrielle sighed again: "Henri only thinks of me as a child."
Flora still was mischievous. "But you know you are not his child, and I am sure you do not think of him as a father."
Gabrielle turned upon her friend with an air of dainty imperiousness. "Flora, Flora, you may be a witch, but there are some thoughts of mine you must not presume to read."
Flora laughed. "You command like a great lady. ’Must not,’ indeed, and ’presume’! Let me tell you, pretty Gabrielle, that I am the great lady here."
Gabrielle was instantly winning and tender again. "You are my sweet friend, and I did not mean to command you."