"Eh, she can stay as long as she wants," Schmidt said hastily, with an eye to future patronage. "I only wanted you to know that I have gratitude."
"And its extent," Dossonville replied with a smile. "Lead the way with your lamb. Did the citoyenne remain quiet? Did she eat anything?"
"A nothing—a sip and a nibble."
Somewhat apprehensive at this symptom, Dossonville approached her room and entered with a hearty "Well, and how goes it?"
Nicole, still exalted and intense, without replying, came forward, questioning him with a glance.
"Reassure yourself, Nicole; everything is for the best," he said. Then, unable to meet the persistent search of her eyes, he admitted grudgingly: "Javogues is dead."
She inclined her head.
"When you kill a man, you know it. There is an intuition. What do they say of me?"
"Everything turned out miraculously," Dossonville answered joyfully. "My men were on guard. No one entered. Javogues did not betray you. The belief is that you stabbed him to save yourself." Without noticing the revolt in her eyes, he continued eagerly: "You are in no danger. I have routed the Tapedures for the present. In a week I'll transfer you to the Madelonnettes, where I have Barabant safely tucked away. There you can wait until the tide sets against the Terrorists, and—"
He stopped, perceiving his blunder, while Nicole, smiling a little at his confusion, said: