“You are cold,” he said anxiously. “Come and sit here.”
She rose obediently.
“Have you had any dinner?” asked Hilaire.
“Yes; they brought me some soup in my room. I am not hungry now.”
She spoke very simply, like a child. Jean had rifled all the other chairs to provide her with a sufficiency of cushions, and now he brought her a footstool.
“I think I must take my shoes off,” she said. “So cold—you see they let the water in, and—”
“Take them off at once,” ordered Hilaire, and he watched, still with that faint smile in his eyes, as Jean knelt to do his bidding.
“That’s very nice,” sighed the girl. “I never knew before that real happiness is just having lots to eat and being warm.”
The two men looked at each other.
“I have often wondered about you,” she said to Hilaire presently. “Your eyes are just like his. I think if I had known that I should have had to come before; but you see I promised Cardinal Jacopo of Portugal—in San Miniato—that I would not. What am I talking about?” Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands.