"Monsieur de Bardelys, you have kept your promise nobly. Will you ask no payment?"
"No, mademoiselle," I answered very softly; "I can take no payment."
Her eyes were lifted for a second. Their blue depths seemed dim. Then they fell again.
"Oh, why will you not help me?" she burst out, to add more softly: "I shall never be happy without you!"
"You mean?" I gasped, retracing a step, and flinging my hat in a corner.
"That I love you, Marcel—that I want you!"
"And you can forgive—you can forgive?" I cried, as I caught her.
Her answer was a laugh that bespoke her scorn of everything—of everything save us two, of everything save our love. That and the pout of her red lips was her answer. And if the temptation of those lips—But there! I grow indiscreet.
Still holding her, I raised my voice.
"Ganymede!" I called.
"Monseigneur?" came his answer through the open window.
"Bid those knaves dismount and unsaddle."