Valsin. You? Oh yes—[He checks himself abruptly; looks at her with brief intensity; turns his eyes away, half closing them in quick meditation; smiles, as upon some secret pleasantry, and proceeds briskly.] Oh yes, yes, I know who you are.
Eloise [beginning haughtily]. Then you—
Valsin [at once cutting her off]. As to your name, I do not say. Names at best are details; and your own is a detail that could hardly be thought to matter. What you are is obvious: you joined Louis and his sister in Paris at the barriers, and traveled with them as "Marie Balsage," a sister. You might save us a little trouble by giving us your real name; you will probably refuse, and the police will have to look it up when I take you back to Paris. Frankly, you are of no importance to us, though of course we'll send you to the Tribunal. No doubt you are a poor relative of the Valny-Cheraults, or, perhaps, you may have been a governess in the Laseyne family, or—
Eloise [under her breath]. Idiot! Idiot!
Valsin [with subterranean enjoyment, watching her sidelong]. Or the good-looking wife of some faithful retainer of the Emigrant's, perhaps.
Eloise [with a shrill laugh]. Does the Committee of Public Safety betray the same intelligence in the appointment of all its agents? [Violently.] Imbecile, I—
Valsin [quickly raising his voice to check her]. You are of no importance, I tell you! [Changing his tone.] Of course I mean politically. [With broad gallantry.] Otherwise, I am the first to admit extreme susceptibility. I saw that you observed it on the way—at the taverns, in the diligence, at the posting-houses, at—
Eloise [with serenity]. Yes. I am accustomed to oglers.
Valsin. Alas, I believe you! My unfortunate sex is but too responsive.
Eloise [gasping]. "Responsive"—Oh!