“May I shut the door?” he asked quietly. Jean nodded. Closing it he turned to them again. “Since my return I have heard naught concerning Mademoiselle Landresse,” he said. “I want to ask you about her now. Does she still live in the Place du Vier Prison?”
Both Jean and Aimable shook their heads. They had spoken no word since his entrance.
“She--she is not dead?” he asked. They shook their heads again.
“Her grandfather”--he paused--“is he living?” Once more they shook their heads in negation. “Where is mademoiselle?” he asked, sick at heart.
Jean looked at his wife; neither moved nor answered. “Where does she live?” urged Philip. Still there was no motion, no reply. “You might as well tell me.” His tone was half pleading, half angry--little like a sovereign duke, very like a man in trouble. “You must know I shall find out from some one else, then,” he continued. “But it is better for you to tell me. I mean her no harm, and I would rather know about her from her friends.”
He took off his hat now. Something in the dignity of these two honest folk rebuked the pride of place and spirit in him. As plainly as though heralds had proclaimed it, he understood that these two knew the abatements on the shield of his honour-argent, a plain point tenne, due to him “that tells lyes to his Prince or General,” and argent, a gore sinister tenne, due for flying from his colours.
Maitresse Aimable turned and looked towards Jean, but Jean turned away his head. Then she did not hesitate. The voice so oft eluding her will responded readily now. Anger--plain primitive rage-possessed her. She had had no child, but as the years had passed all the love that might have been given to her own was bestowed upon Guida, and in that mind she spoke.
“O my grief, to think you have come here-you!” she burst forth. “You steal the best heart in the world--there is none like her, nannin-gia. You promise her, you break her life, you spoil her, and then you fly away--ah coward you! Man pethe benin, was there ever such a man like you! If my Jean there had done a thing as that I would sink him in the sea--he would sink himself, je me crais! But you come back here, O my Mother of God, you come back here with your sword, with your crown-ugh, it is like a black cat in heaven--you!”
