"You beckoned me?" she asked.
"No, I did not."
"Nevertheless, I come by your desire, I am sure."
"Mademoiselle," I said, "I am not in the custom of doing favors; I have forsworn them. But before you return me my jewel, I risk my head and render one last one, and to you."
"Do not, Monsieur, at such price," she responded, with a slight mocking motion of her hand.
"Delphine! those resolves, last night, in the cellar, were daring; they were noble, yet they were useless."
She had not started, but a slight tremor ran over her person and vanished while I spoke.
"They will be allowed to proceed no farther,—the axe is sharpened; for the last man who adjusted his mask was a spy,—was the Secretary of the Secret Service."
Delphine could not have grown paler than was usual with her of late. She flashed her eye upon me.
"He was, it may be, Monsieur himself," she said.