“I have told you nothing but the truth, Mademoiselle.”
“Yes, but not all of it. Is it not so?”
I was silent.
“Monsieur, do you not realize that I have committed a great imprudence in allowing you to converse with me here alone, under such circumstances? That my duty should be to pull the bell and hand you over to the Duke’s retainers for punishment? That you owe much to my forbearance?”
“I realize all that you say, Mademoiselle, and I am filled with shame.”
“Why, then, are you here? What are you doing in the Marquis du Trémigon’s clothing? What is that you hold?” I thoughtlessly lifted my hand. “My slipper!” she exclaimed, flushing in her turn. “You have been in my closet yonder. What does it all mean?”
“I will speak!” I replied desperately, resolved to make a clean breast of the whole affair. “I am in the power of the Marquis du Trémigon. I owe him money.”
“Heaven help you!”
“I am surprised to hear you say that!” I exclaimed in amazement.
“Monsieur,” she said quickly, disregarding my remark, “my purse is on the table. Let me discharge my obligation. Take what you will.”