Madame de Cocheforet said, with a very slight air of condescension, 'Will you please to tell me your name, Monsieur?'
'I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Normandy,' I said, taking on impulse the name of my mother. My own, by a possibility, might be known.
Madame's face wore a puzzled look. 'I do not know that name, I think,' she said thoughtfully. Doubtless she was going over in her mind all the names with which conspiracy had made her familiar.
That is my misfortune, Madame,' I said humbly.
'Nevertheless I am going to scold you,' she rejoined, still eyeing me with some keenness. 'I am glad to see that you are none the worse for your adventure--but others may be. And you should have borne that in mind, sir.'
'I do not think that I hurt the man seriously,' I stammered.
'I do not refer to that,' she answered coldly. 'You know, or should know, that we are in disgrace here; that the Government regards us already with an evil eye, and that a very small thing would lead them to garrison the village, and perhaps oust us from the little the wars have left us. You should have known this, and considered it,' she continued. 'Whereas--I do not say that you are a braggart, M. de Barthe. But on this one occasion you seem to have played the part of one.'
'Madame, I did not think,' I stammered.
'Want of thought causes much evil,' she answered, smiling.
'However, I have spoken, and we trust that while you stay with us you will be more careful. For the rest, Monsieur,' she continued graciously, raising her hand to prevent me speaking, 'we do not know why you are here, or what plans you are pursuing. And we do not wish to know. It is enough that you are of our side. This house is at your service as long as you please to use it. And if we can aid you in any other way we will do so.'
'Madame!' I exclaimed; and there I stopped. I could say no more. The rose garden, with its air of neglect, the shadow of the quiet house that fell across it, the great yew hedge which backed it, and was the pattern of one under which I had played in childhood--all had points that pricked me. But the women's kindness, their unquestioning confidence, the noble air of hospitality which moved them! Against these and their placid beauty in its peaceful frame I had no shield, no defence. I turned away, and feigned to be overcome by gratitude.
'I have no words--to thank you!' I muttered presently. 'I am a little shaken this morning. I--pardon me.'
'We will leave you for a while,' Mademoiselle de Cocheforet said in gentle pitying tones. 'The air will revive you. Louis shall call you when we go to dinner, M. de Barthe. Come, Elise.'
I bowed low to hide my face, and they nodded pleasantly--not looking closely at me--as they walked by me to the house. I watched the two gracious, pale-robed figures until the doorway swallowed them, and then I walked away to a quiet corner where the shrubs grew highest and the yew hedge threw its deepest shadow, and I stood to think.
