“Of course, I knew it was you, Jacques,” the bewitching voice responded, “or you don’t suppose I should have come knocking at your window this way, do you?”
“No, I should think not, chérie,” I assented heartily, solicitous to cherish the maid’s mistake and prolong the interview to the utmost patience of Fate. “But it was kind of you to come so soon.”
This seemed safe and non-committal, but I trembled after I said it, lest some unknown revelation should be lurking in the words.
“I had to, Jacques, because I was afraid you might come to see me to-night——”
“I was coming,” I interrupted, boldly mendacious, “but I was on the road all night, and thought I had better lie down for a soldier’s forty winks before I called.”
She laughed under her breath provocatively.
“How your French has improved in these two years,” she remarked with approbation. “I used to think you would never learn.”
This was the first time I had seen Cheticamp village, but I felt safe in my reply.
“I was stupid, of course, mon ange; but after I was gone I remembered your sweet instructions.”
This was dangerous ground. I hastened to shift it.