Celia followed his advice. She ate some food and drank a glass of champagne. A little colour returned to her cheeks.
"You are very kind to me, you and monsieur your friend," she said, with a smile towards Ricardo. "But for you-" and her voice shook.
"Hush!" said Hanaud-"all that is over; we will not speak of it."
Celia looked out across the road on to the trees, of which the dark foliage was brightened and made pale by the lights of the restaurant. Out on the water some one was singing.
"It seems impossible to me," she said in a low voice, "that I am here, in the open air, and free."
Hanaud looked at his watch.
"Mlle. Celie, it is past ten o’clock. M. Ricardo’s car is waiting there under the trees. I want you to drive back to Aix. I have taken rooms for you at an hotel, and there will be a nurse from the hospital to look after you."
"Thank you, monsieur," she said; "you have thought of everything. But I shall not need a nurse."
"But you will have a nurse," said Hanaud firmly. "You feel stronger now-yes, but when you lay your head upon your pillow, mademoiselle, it will be a comfort to you to know that you have her within call. And in a day or two," he added gently, "you will perhaps be able to tell us what happened on Tuesday night at the Villa Rose?"
Celia covered her face with her hands for a few moments. Then she drew them away and said simply: