"The right of a man who adores you, mademoiselle."
"That is no right at all. A man's right concerning a woman must be derived from her own actions. But come inside the church, monsieur."
She made a gesture to her attendants, and reentered the church. I followed her. We stood together before the font in the dim light.
"And now," she continued, facing me, "suppose I grant that I have so acted as to give you a right to question me; what then? Is it my fault that you have followed me this morning? Is it, then, any more my fault that I have been followed, also, by M. de Noyard?"
"But he must have been here before you."
"What does that prove? A score of people in the Louvre knew yesterday that I was coming to this church to-day."
"But so deserted a church,—so out of the way! Who would come here from the Louvre but for a tryst?"
She smiled, indulgently. "Can a thing have no cause except the obvious one?" she said. "I visit this church once every month, because, obscure though it be, it is associated with certain events in the history of my ancestors."
"But," I went on, though beginning to feel relieved, "if M. de Noyard was thrusting his presence on you, why did he leave before you did?"
"Probably because he knew that I would not leave the church while he remained to press his company upon me outside."