"You must have food," said Aline decidedly. "I will bring you some."
"Oh, you angel!" exclaimed Marguerite, kissing her through the bars. "When you came I was standing here trying to screw up my courage to go down to the inn and ask for some."
"Oh, not the inn," said Aline quickly; "that's the last place to go. I 'm afraid there 's danger everywhere, but I 'll do what I can. Go back to the château, and I 'll come as soon as possible."
"Yes, as soon as possible, please, for I am hungry enough to eat you, my dear. See, have n't I got thin—yes, and pale too? I assure you that I have a most interesting air."
"Does M. my cousin find pallor interesting?" inquired Aline teasingly.
"No, my dear; he has a bourgeois's taste for colour. He compared me once to a carnation, but I punished him well for that. I stole the vinegar, and drank enough to make me feel shockingly ill. Then I powdered my cheeks, and then—then I talked all the evening to M. de Maillé!"
"And my cousin, M. le Chevalier, what did he do?"
Marguerite gave an irrepressible giggle.
"He went away, and I was just beginning to feel that perhaps he had been punished enough, when back he came, very easy and smiling, with a sweet large and beautiful bouquet of white carnations, and with an elegant bow he begged me to accept them, since white was my preference, though for his part he preferred the beauteous red that blushed like happy love!"
"And then?"