"But before anything is done," said John, "I want to speak to you all."

And making signs to the others, he drew them out of the hall. Just as
they were going out I thought I noticed that John was trying to persuade
Antony to keep watch over me. But Antony, with a firmness which I could
not understand, insisted on following the rest. I was left alone with
the stranger.

For a moment I remained bewildered, almost stupefied, and more
embarrassed than pleased at the _tete-a-tete_. Then I endeavoured to
think of some explanation of these mysterious things that were happening
around me, and succeeded, as far as the fumes of the wine would allow
me, in imagining something fairly probable, though, indeed, remote
enough from the actual truth.

I thought I could account for everything I had just seen and heard by
supposing, first, that the lady, quiet and richly dressed though she
was, was one of those daughters of Bohemia that I had sometimes seen
at fairs; secondly, that Laurence, having met her in the country, had
brought her here to amuse the company; and, thirdly, that they had told
her of my condition of swaggering drunkenness, and had prevailed on her
to put my gallantry to the proof, whilst they were to watch me through
the keyhole. My first movement, as soon as these ideas had taken
possession of me, was to rise and go straight to the door. This I locked
with a double turn and then bolted. When I had done this I returned to
the lady, determined that I would not, at all events, give her cause to
laugh at my bashfulness.

She was sitting close to the fire, and as she was occupied in drying
her wet garments, leaning forward over the hearth, she had not taken
any notice of what I was doing; but when I approached her the strange
expression on my face caused her to start. I had made up my mind to kiss
her, as a beginning; but, I know not by what miracle, as soon as she
raised her eyes to mine, this familiarity became impossible. I only had
sufficient courage to say:

"Upon my word, mademoiselle, you are a charming creature, and I love
you--as true as my name is Bernard Mauprat."

"Bernard Mauprat!" she cried, springing up; "you are Bernard Mauprat,
you? In that case, change your manner and learn to whom you are talking.
Have they not told you?"

"No one has told me, but I can guess," I replied with a grin, while
trying hard to trample down the feeling of respect with which her sudden
pallor and imperious attitude i