“Only here, Mam’zelle,” she replied at length.
“Here!” said Domini, rather eagerly. “Why, I have only been here twenty-six hours.”
“That is true. But Mam’zelle looks as if she had a little life here, a little emotion. Mon Dieu! Mam’zelle will pardon me, but what is a woman who feels no emotion? A packet. Is it not so, Mam’zelle?”
“Well, but what is there to be emotional about here?”
Suzanne looked vaguely crafty.
“Who knows, Mam’zelle? Who can say? Mon Dieu! This village is dull, but it is odd. No band plays. There are no shops for a girl to look into. There is nothing chic except the costumes of the Zouaves. But one cannot deny that it is odd. When Mam’zelle was away this afternoon in the tower Monsieur Helmuth—”
“Who is that?”
“The Monsieur who accompanies the omnibus to the station. Monsieur Helmuth was polite enough to escort me through the village. Mon Dieu, Mam’zelle, I said to myself, ‘Anything might occur here.’”
“Anything! What do you mean?”
But Suzanne did not seem to know. She only made her figure look more tense than ever, tucked in her round little chin, which was dimpled and unmeaning, and said: