"Yes," faltered she; "but madam forbade me to tell it."
"Ouais, madam is shrewd," laughed Calembours. "Now, mon enfant, where is madam?"
"She has not arisen yet," said the trembling maid, "but will come soon to speak with you. Madam asks will you have refreshments?"
"Ten thousand thanks. Yes, yes, machere, and make haste," said the hungry Hun, with alacrity.
No sooner was the girl gone when Calembours turned his attention to the examination of the elegantly embellished apartment, and, with an ejaculation of delight, extolled the pictures, statuettes, and bijouterie which were scattered about with such profusion; and then he burst into a gay old French song.
St. Udo, being seated within view of the hall, which he could see through the half-open door, was the sole witness of what followed, however.
A woman floated down the staircase and approached the door. Her demeanor was expressive of the wildest emotion. She clung to the door-handle, half-fainting, and listened breathlessly to the chevalier's song. She seemed a vision of wonderful grace, with her rich dressing-robe huddled up in her arms, and her long, light tresses sweeping over her shoulders, and, with her soul standing in her passion-darkened eyes, and her scarlet lips apart, she embodied the spirit of a Sabrina listening to the voice of the gods.
Suddenly the fire died out of her face, and a weary change came over it—fear, anger, and doubt struggled for the mastery—and at last she dropped her hand, wrung it in its lovely fellow, and swiftly fled up stairs again.
"Now, who is this woman?" mused St. Udo, "and what does she know of my friend, the chevalier? Shall I interfere? No—I think he would scarcely brook my meddling. In his place, I should not."
He made no remark, therefore; and when the chevalier's song came to an end, Madam Estvan entered the room.