The Countess shivered. The boon was so great, the gift so tremendous, if she could accept it! But she was Rochechouart. What would men say if they discovered that she had not gone, that she had let another take her place and run her risk? She pondered with parted lips. If it might be!
"You are not fit to go," Bonne continued. "You will faint or fall. You are ill now."
"But they will find out!" the Countess wailed, hiding her face on Bonne's shoulder. "They will find out!"
"They will not find out," Bonne replied firmly. "And I--why should I not go? You have done one night. I will do one."
"Oh, if you would! But will you--not be afraid?" The Countess's eyes were full of longing. If only she could accept with honour!
"I shall not be afraid," Bonne answered confidently. "And no one need know, no one shall know. M. des Ageaux does not talk to you?"
"No. But if it be found out, everybody--ah, I shall die of shame! Your brother, Roger, too--and everybody!"
"No one shall know," Bonne answered stoutly. "No one. Besides, you have been once. It is not as if you had not been!"
And the child, with the memory of the night pressing upon her, jumped at that. "Then I shall go to-morrow night," she said. "I shall go to-morrow night."
Bonne was clear that she was not fit to go again. But she let that be for the moment. "That shall be as you wish," she answered comfortably. "We will talk about that to-morrow. For to-night it is settled. And now you must try if you cannot go to sleep. If you do not sleep you will be ill."