"What a frown! How fierce you are! Is it then such a terrible affair to help me a little--Jean?"
"_Mon Dieu_!" cried Jean--and the words were on his lips with a rush. "But--_no_!"
"Oh!" she murmured, and drew back a little; and the colour, rising, glowed pink through her cheeks. "You _are_ impulsive, aren't you? Well, then, since you are to help me, what are we to do?"
Jean's eyes were revelling in that pink flush. It was satisfying to the man-mind, that--even though she were of the _grand monde_ then, a woman was a woman after all. It was a sort of turning of the tables, that added to the magnetism of her presence because it put him suddenly more at his ease. But to help her--that was another matter. Bernay-sur-Mer was--Bernay-sur-Mer! _Voilà tout_! Apart from the Bas Rhône there was no accommodation for strangers, for there was nothing stranger than strangers in Bernay-sur-Mer. Since then there was no other place for them to go, he could think of no other place. And yet, a week, a month--to think that she would spend that time in Bernay-sur-Mer! _Ciel_! Where were his brains?
"Well?" she prompted, with alluring imperiousness.
It was the force of habit. In trouble, in perplexity, in joy, in sorrow, for counsel, for advice there was but one court of appeal in Bernay-sur-Mer--the good Father Anton. The rôle of Father Anton was not only spiritual--it was secular. Bernay-sur-Mer was a child and Father Anton was its parent--it had always been so.
"Father Anton? Who is Father Anton?" she demanded.
"He is the curé," Jean answered. "I do not know of any place, but Father Anton will know if there is any, and--"
"Splendid!" she broke in excitedly. "Let us go and ask Father Anton at once. Come along"--she crossed the café to the front door. "Come along, Jean, and show me the way."
Yes, certainly, she carried things by assault this American girl. She bubbled with life and vivacity. And he was to walk with her now to Father Anton's--half an hour ago he would as soon have dreamed of possessing a fortune! It was incredible! It must be a marvellous world that, where she came from--but no, even the women of her world could not be like her! The suppleness of her form, it was divine; the carriage, the poise, the smile--it was intoxication, it went to the senses!