White-faced, Aline recoiled.
"Oh, Citoyenne," she breathed, and shrank away.
Thérèse laughed loud.
"Oh, Citoyenne, Citoyenne," she mimicked. "Tender flower, pretty lamb, but the lamb's throat comes to the butcher's knife all the same," and her eyes were wicked behind their mockery.
"Have you heard any news of that fine lover of yours, since he rode away," she went on.
"I have no lover," answered Mademoiselle, the blood flaming into her thin cheeks.
"You are too modest, perhaps?" sneered Thérèse.
"I have not thought of such things."
"Such things—just hear her! What? you have not thought of Citizen Dangeau, handsome Citizen Dangeau, and he living in the same house, and closeted with you evening after evening, as our good Rosalie tells me? Does one do such things without thinking?"
Mademoiselle's flush had faded almost as it had risen, leaving her white and proud.