for the
sake of the word 'much,'" I replied.

I tried to take her hands. She drew them away quickly, though, in fact,
she had no need to fear; for had she given me them, I merely intended to
press them in brotherly fashion; but this appearance of distrust aroused
memories which were dangerous for me. I fancy she showed a great deal of
coquetry that evening in her expression and manners; and, until then,
I had never seen the least inclination toward it. I felt my courage
rising, though I could not explain why; and I ventured on some pointed
remarks about her interview with M. de la Marche. She made no effort
to deny my interpretations, and began to laugh when I told her that she
ought to thank me for my exquisite politeness in retiring as soon as I
saw her knit her brow.

Her supercilious levity was beginning to irritate me a little, when
a servant entered and handed her a letter, saying that some one was
waiting for an answer.

"Go to my writing-table and cut a pen for me, please," she said to me.

With an air of unconcern she broke the seal and ran through the letter,
while I, quite ignorant of the contents, began preparing her writing
materials.

For some time the crow-quill had been cut ready for use; for some time
the paper with its coloured vignette had been waiting by the side of
the amber writing-case; yet Edmee paid no attention to them and made no
attempt to use them. The letter lay open in her lap; her feet were
on the fire-dogs, her elbows on the arm of her chair in her favourite
attitude of meditation. She was completely absorbed. I spoke to her
softly; she did not hear me. I thought that she had forgotten the letter
and had fallen asleep. After a quarter of an hour the servant came back
and said that the messenger wished to know if there was any answer.

"Certainly," she replied; "ask him to wait."

She read the letter again with the closest attention, and began to
write slowly; then she threw her reply into the fire, pushed away the
arm-chair with her foot, walked round the room a few times, and suddenly
stopped in front of me and looked at me in a cold, hard manner.

"Edmee," I cried, springing to me feet, "what is the matter, and how
does that letter which is worrying you so much concern myself?"

"What is that to you?" she replied.

"What is that to me?" I cried. "And what is the air I breathe to me? and
what is the blood that flows in my veins? Ask me that, if you like, but
do not ask how