“Oh, I had the cool impertinence to lock you in,” she answered, smiling.
“You! And who are you? And whose house is this?”
“This is the Château d’Uzerche. It belongs to the Baronne de Coudron. I am the Baronne’s niece.”
“The Château d’Uzerche—eh?”
I could not for the moment, think of anything else to say. The girl spoke quite naturally, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
“I am going to bring your déjeuner in a minute,” she said, drawing down the blinds to keep out the sun. “Will you both give me your word you won’t leave this room if I leave the door unlocked? Please do—for my sake.”
She looked so captivating as she said this, her voice was so soft, and altogether she seemed so charming, that Faulkner at once answered that he had not the least desire to leave the room if she would promise to come back as quickly as possible, and to stay a little while.
“Then you will promise?” she asked, her big eyes set on his.
“How foolish! Why?” I asked, interrupting.
“Well,” she replied. “If you will remain here I will bring you a visitor.”