In my astonishment that she should think of relying upon Polignac, whose life I believed would be forfeit if he dared to enter Paris, I had unconsciously spoken his name with raised voice. We had heretofore been speaking almost in whispers for fear of a possible listener. As I uttered his name Pelagie started and looked nervously toward the door of the blue salon.
"I beg you to be careful, Monsieur," she said anxiously. "As you say, his life would be forfeit if any one suspected his presence in Paris. I do not know that he is here, but I am hourly expecting to hear from him. There is no one in the world I would have trusted this secret to but you, and I am relying on your discretion as well as your honor."
I bowed my thanks, grateful for her confidence and ashamed of the indiscretion that might so easily have betrayed her secret. But I had not gained my point.
"You will let me help in this flight, too, Mademoiselle! It is a great peril you are undertaking, and one more sword, whose owner will lightly risk his life for you, cannot come amiss."
But she only shook her head and whispered, "It is impossible," and at that moment Henriette entered the room.
"Mademoiselle la Comtesse," she said timidly (I fear Pelagie must have been at times something of a little tyrant, to make her companion stand in such awe of her), "I have stayed away, not five minutes, but ten. I come to remind you that the hour has arrived at which Madame la Duchesse returns."
"Thanks, my good Henriette," said Pelagie, sweetly; "it is true, and I had forgotten it."
She turned quickly to me: "You must go at once, Monsieur! It is much better the duchesse should not find you here."
"And can I not see you again? Shall I never see you again?" I asked eagerly, in English.
"No, no! Do not try—I will send word," she answered, also in English, and then put out her hand, "Go, Monsieur," she said in French, "and farewell!"