“Yes, Auguste,” she replied quite simply, “I am here.” He would have come towards her, but there was a note in her voice which arrested him.
“And Monsieur le Vicomte—Henri?” he said.
I found myself listening tensely for the answer.
“Henri is in Austria, fighting for his King, I hope,” said Madame la Vicomtesse.
“So Madame la Vicomtesse is a refugee,” he said with a bow and a smile that made me very angry.
“And Monsieur de St. Gré!” I asked.
At the sound of my voice he started and gave back, for he had not perceived me. He recovered his balance, such as it was, instantly.
“Monsieur seems to take an extraordinary interest in my affairs,” he said jauntily.
“Only when they are to the detriment of other persons who are my friends,” I said.
“Monsieur has intruded in a family matter,” said Auguste, grandly, still in French.