Tremont said nothing, and she glanced at him suddenly.
"She says such lovely things about you, Monsieur."
"Really! She is too indulgent."
"Don't be worldly," said Miss Redmond gravely, "be human. I like you best so. Don't you agree with me?"
"Madame de la Maine is a very charming woman," said the young man, and the girl saw a change come over his features.
At this moment, as they stood so together, Tremont pulling his mustache and looking out through the bougainvillea vines, a dark figure made its way through the garden to the villa, came and took its position under the balcony where the duke and Miss Redmond leaned. It was a native, a man in filthy rags. He turned his face to Tremont and bowed low to the lady.
"Excellency," he said in broken French, "my name is Hammet Abou. I was the ordonnance of Monsieur le Capitaine de Sabron."
"What!" exclaimed Tremont, "what did you say?"
"Ask him to come up here," said Julia Redmond, "or, no—let us go down to the garden."
"It is damp," said Tremont, "let me get you a shawl."