"Then you did not come here to see La Chatre?"
"I came to see him, I admit! I was seeking him when I met you here. But it was not because I feared discovery that I left you, nor because I thought my miserable work was done, nor to finish it."
I saw now that she was in great agitation. She tottered forward to the table and put her hand on it, and leaned on it for support.
It seemed as if she were speaking the truth, as if there might be some explanation of all, but that her inward excitement was too great, her ideas too confused, for her to assemble the facts and present them in proper order. It seemed that she could answer my accusations only as they came, that she acknowledged herself guilty in part towards me, and yet did not wish me harm.
"Mademoiselle," I said, dropping my harshness and irony, "to believe you true would make me as happy as I now am wretched. But why is your boy here, in the governor's service? Why did he carry from you the secret of my hiding-place?"
Mademoiselle shuddered and gave a gesture of despair, as if there were indeed no defence for her.
"Why are the troops away, if not in quest of me?" I asked. "We saw them going towards Maury by the river road."
"I did not know that the troops had gone, or were going," she said. "I swear to you, monsieur, if troops have gone to Maury this night, I had nothing to do with their going!"
"But they knew what road to take, and how to find my hiding-place. La
Chatre knew that."
"Alas, it is true!" she moaned, while tears ran down her face. "I sent him word!"