Before me,
alone, just risen from a chair, with her face one moment pale,
the next crimson with blushes, stood Mademoiselle de Cocheforet.
I cried out her name.
'M. de Berault,' she said, trembling. 'You did not expect to see
me?'
'I expected to see no one so little, Mademoiselle,' I answered,
striving to recover my composure.
'Yet you might have thought that we should not utterly desert
you,' she replied, with a reproachful humility which went to my
heart. 'We should have been base indeed, if we had not made some
attempt to save you. I thank Heaven, M. de Berault, that it has
so far succeeded that that strange man has promised me your life.
You have seen him?' she continued eagerly and in another tone,
while her eyes grew on a sudden large with fear.
'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I said. 'I have seen him, and it is true,
He has given me my life.'
'And--?'
'And sent me into imprisonment.'
'For how long?' she whispered.
'I do not know,' I answered. 'I fear during the King's
pleasure.'
She shuddered.
'I may have done more harm than good,' she murmured, looking at
me piteously.
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