La Masque leaned across her chair, and laid one dainty finger lightly on the girl's hot cheek.
“And for which is that blush, Leoline?”
“Madame, was it only to ask me questions you came here?” said Leoline, drawing proudly back, though the hot red spot grew hotter and redder; “if so, you will excuse my declining to answer any more.”
“Child, child!” said La Masque, in a tone so strangely sad that it touched Leoline, “do not be angry with me. It is no idle curiosity that sent me here at this hour to ask impertinent questions, but a claim that I have upon you, stronger than that of any one else in the world.”
Leoline's beautiful eyes opened wider yet.
“A claim upon me! How? Why? I do not understand.”
“All in good time. Will you tell me something of your past history, Leoline?”
“Madame Masque, I have no history to tell. All my life I have lived alone with Prudence; that in the whole of it in nine words.”
La Masque half laughed.
“Short, sharp, and decisive. Had you never father or mother?”