“Thank you,” said Jacqueline, gravely.
She seated herself on a sack of sawdust, clasping her slender hands between her knees, and looked earnestly at the elephant.
“He won’t harm you,” I assured her.
“If you think I am afraid of that,” she said, “you are mistaken, Monsieur Scarlett.”
“I don’t think you are afraid of anything,” observed Speed, smiling; “but I know you are capable of astonishment.”
“How do you know that?” demanded the girl.
“Because I saw you with your drum on the high-road when we came past Paradise. Your eyes were similar to saucers, and your mouth was not closed, Mademoiselle Jacqueline.”
“Oh—pour ça—yes, I was astonished,” she said. Then, with a quick, upward glance: “Were you riding, in armor, on a horse?”
“No,” said Speed; “I was on that elephant’s head.”
This appeared to make a certain impression on Jacqueline. She became shyer of speech for a while, until he asked her, jestingly, why she did not join the circus.