now he has threatened to move
his ships into midstream, and to open fire on the town! And Mademoiselle,
he means to do it. I thought once--but he means to do it, Mademoiselle."

She pursed her lips, and looked at me from the corner of her eye.

"Pouf!" she said. "So you are growing frightened also. Yet I can
understand. The Marquis always said that Captain Shelton could frighten
the devil himself."

"Frightened!" I echoed, and the blood rushed into my cheeks.

"Mon Dieu! Perhaps you are not. Listen, Monsieur, I am not taunting you.
I am not saying he will not. He is serious, Monsieur, and you must leave
him alone, or perhaps I shall not get the paper after all, and remember,
I must have it. My brother must have it, and he shall, only you must not
disturb him. He may shoot at the town, if he cares to, or murder your
uncle. He has often spoken of it at Blanzy, but the paper is another
matter. You must leave it to me."

"To you!" I cried.

"Precisely," said Mademoiselle. "You--what can you do? You are young. You
are inexperienced. Pardon me, but you would be quite ineffective."

My cheeks flamed again. Somehow no sarcasm of my father's had bitten as
deep as those last words of hers. I do not know whether it was chagrin or
anger that I felt at the bitter sense of my own futility. And she had
seen it all. As coldly and as accurately as my father, she had watched
me, and as coldly she had given her verdict. She was watching me now with
a cool, confident smile that made me turn away.

"Ah," she said, "I have hurt you, and believe me, I did not mean to."

Something in the polite impersonality of her voice gave me a vague
resentment. She had moved nearer, and yet I could not meet her glance.

"I am sorry" she said, and paused expectantly, but I could only stare at
the floor in silence.

"Believe me, I am sorry."

It might have been different if I had detected the slightest contrition,
but instead I seemed only to afford her mild amusement.

"There is no need to be sorry," I replied.

"Ah, but there is!" she said quickly, "Last night you were very kind.
Last night you tried to help me."

I seemed to see her again, standing pale and troubled, while my
father watched her, coldly appraising, and Brutus grinned at her
across the room.

"Mademoiselle" I began, "Anything that I did last night--"

"Was quite unnecessary," she said, "And very foolish."

I drew a sharp breath. The bit of gallantry I had on my mind to