“Ay, let it be so,” he answered. “And, Hermione,” he went on, beckoning her to lean down and listen to something that he whispered in her ear. She looked in his face with a smile, as he concluded, and then glided swiftly from the room to give her orders.
Presently Hermione returned, followed by a train of servants, with preparations for the meal. Some spread the table; while others drew near to the couch where the man sat, bearing a furred dressing-gown and slippers.
Paulina put out her hand for the latter.
The attendant would have withheld them, but, at a sign from the man, gave them to her. She put them carefully on his feet, saying: “Now for your wrapping-gown.”
The other attendant stepped forward, about to hold it ready; but Paulina took that also from his hands, with “No, no; give it me. I’ll put it on. I’ll step on the stool, on tiptoe; and I shall be able to reach.”
“Let her do it,” said the man, and with his amused smile.
“You have not yet told me your name,” she resumed. “If you’re not a thief, you do not keep your promises, and that’s nearly as bad.”
There was a stir, and a look of amazement among the attendants; but the next moment it subsided.
“Is not that rather a rude way of reminding a person of his promise?” asked Hermione, with her calm smile.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I speak the truth,” said Paulina, in her grave way, which was too sincere, earnest, and straightforward to be insolent. “I observed my part of the bargain at once. I put myself in your father’s power by trusting him with the name he asked; and I expected he would keep his word with me in return.”