"You have news of Monsieur de Merri," she said eagerly. "What of him?"
"He is prevented from coming to you, Madame."
Her face, pale before, turned white as a sheet.
"But," I hastened to add, "I have come in his stead, and I will serve you as willingly as he."
"But that will not do," she said, in great agitation. "Nobody can serve me at this pass but Monsieur de Merri. Where is he? What prevents him?"
"I left him at La Flèche," said I lamely. "I assure you it is utterly impossible for him to come. But believe me, I am wholly yours for whatever service you desired of him. You can see that I have come from him." I took from my pocket her note, and held it out. I then told her my name and parentage, and begged her not to distrust me because I was of another religion than hers.
"It isn't that I don't believe you, Monsieur," she replied. "It isn't that I doubt your willingness to help me."
"As to my ability, try me, Madame. My zeal will inspire me."
"I don't doubt your ability to do brave and difficult things, Monsieur. But it is not that. It happens—the circumstances are such—alas, nobody but Monsieur de Merri himself can help me! If you but knew! If he but knew!"
"Tell me the case, Madame. Trust me, I beg. Let me be the judge as to whether I can help you."