“Yes, I know you told me so. But that didn’t seem to make it any better!” Lily smiled, and tried to regain her composure. “Luckily, her son comes to-morrow, and I hope that will make her forget this dreadful, dreadful thing! But I shall never forget it.”
“Indeed you will, and must,” said M. Popeau, and there came a very authoritative tone into his kind voice. “It is your duty to do so, Miss Fairfield. English people have a great sense of duty—I appeal to that sense now! You must put this poor man out of your mind”—he hesitated—“for ever. Now promise me? You know I am your friend—I hope I shall always be your friend, Miss Fairfield.”
“I hope so too,” said Lily gratefully; “you’ve been wonderfully good to me! I don’t know how I should have got through the last fortnight if it hadn’t been for you——”
“If you are really grateful to me,” said M. Popeau gravely, “then there is one mark of your gratitude which I should very much appreciate.”
Lily looked round at him rather surprised. “Yes?” she said.
“That mark of gratitude,” he said deliberately, “is to trust me, Mademoiselle—always come to me when you are in any trouble. I do not only mean now at Monte Carlo. I mean afterwards. When in trouble, real trouble, come to Papa Popeau! Although I do not often talk of it—for, though you may be surprised to hear it, I am what you in England call a modest fellow, Miss Fairfield—Papa Popeau has a great deal of power. Papa Popeau can do all sorts of strange and wonderful things to help his friends.”
“I know he can,” said Lily gratefully. “I think that only Papa Popeau could have secured me such a comfortable journey.”
“That is true,” he said gravely.
He got up from the bench, and they began walking slowly down a cypress alley. “I think Captain Stuart is waiting for us in the road,” he observed.
And then Lily—she could not have told you why—blushed very deeply.