“The paper that I have is certainly the paper that I left behind,” he answered serenely, for he had himself well in hand by now. “And as for dubbing me a thief so readily”—he paused, and shrugged his shoulders—“you are a woman,” he concluded, with an air suggesting that that fact was a conclusion to all things.
“Fool!” she blazed. “Do you think to overcome me by quibbles? Do you think to dupe me with words and shrugs?”
“My dear Cecile” he begged half-whimsically, “may I implore you to use some restraint? Inured as I am to the unbounded licence of your tongue and to the abandon that seems so inherent in you, let me assure you that—”
“Ah! You can say Cecile now?” she cried, leaving the remainder of his speech unheeded. “Now that you need me; now that you want me to be a party to your treacherous designs against my uncle. Oh, you can say 'Cecile' and 'dear Cecile' instead of your everlasting 'Citoyenne'.
“It seems I am doomed to be always misunderstood by you,” he laughed, and at the sound she started as if he had struck her.
Had she but looked in his eyes she had seen no laughter there; she might have realised that murder rather than mirth was in his soul—for, at all costs, he was determined to hold the paper he had been at such pains to get.
“I understand you well enough,” she cried hotly, her cheeks flaming red of a sudden. “I understand you, you thief, you trickster. Do you think that I heard nothing of what passed this morning between my uncle and you? Do you think I do not know whose name you have written on that paper? Answer me,” she commanded him.
“Since you know so much, what need for any questions?” quoth he coolly, transferring the coveted paper to his pocket as he spoke. “And since we are so far agreed that I am not contradicting anything you say—nor, indeed, intend to—perhaps you will see the convenience of ending an interview that promises to be fruitless. My dear Cecile, I am very grateful to you for the key of this room. I beg that you will make my compliments to the Citizen your uncle upon his return, and inform him of how thoroughly you ministered to my wants.”
With that and a superb air of insouciance, he made shift to go. But fronting him she barred his way.
“Give me that paper, sclerat,” she demanded imperiously. “You shall not go until you surrender it. Give it to me or I will call Duplay.”