y lead to discovery.'

For answer she laughed behind her mask-laughed coldly and ironically.
'You go too fast, sir,' she said, her low clear voice matching the laugh
and rousing a feeling almost of anger in my heart. 'I do not know you;
or, rather, I know nothing of you which should entitle you to interfere
in my affairs. You are too quick to presume, sir. You say you come from
a friend. From whom?'

'From one whom I am proud to call by that title,' I answered with what
patience I might.

'His name!'

I answered firmly that I could not give it. And I eyed her steadily as I
did so.

This for the moment seemed to baffle and confuse her, but after a pause
she continued: 'Where do you propose to take me, sir?'

'To Blois; to the lodging of a friend of my friend.'

'You speak bravely,' she replied with a faint sneer. 'You have made some
great friends lately it seems! But you bring me some letter, no doubt;
at least some sign, some token, some warranty, that you are the person
you pretend to be, M. de Marsac?'

'The truth is, Mademoiselle,' I stammered, 'I must explain. I should
tell you--'

'Nay, sir,' she cried impetuously, 'there is no need of telling. If you
have what I say, show it me! It is you who lose time. Let us have no
more words!'

I had used very few words, and, God knows, was not in the mind to use
many; but, being in the wrong, I had no answer to make except the truth,
and that humbly. 'I had such a token as you mention, mademoiselle,' I
said, 'no farther back than this afternoon, in the shape of half a gold
coin, entrusted to me by my friend. But, to my shame I say it, it was
stolen from me a few hours back.'

'Stolen from you!' she exclaimed.

'Yes, mademoiselle; and for that reason I cannot show it,' I answered.

'You cannot show it? And you dare to come to me without it!' she cried,
speaking with a vehemence which fairly startled me, prepared as I was
for reproaches. You come to me! You!' she continued. And with that,
scarcely stopping to take breath, she loaded me with abuse; calling me
impertinent, a meddler, and a hundred other things, which I now blush
to recall, and displaying in all a passion which even in her attendant
would have surprised me, but in one so slight and seemingly delicate,
overwhelmed and confounded me. In fault as I was, I could not understand
the peculiar bitterness she displayed, or the contemptuous force of her
language, and I stared at her in silent wonder until,