I thanked her huskily, saying that I would not sit, as I could not stay. ‘Simon Fleix,’ I continued, finding my voice with difficulty, ‘has, I am afraid, caused you some trouble by bringing you to this house instead of telling you that I had made preparation for you at my lodgings.’ ‘It was not Simon Fleix’s fault,’ she replied curtly. ‘I prefer these rooms. They are more convenient.’ ‘They are, perhaps, more convenient,’ I rejoined humbly, ‘But I have to think of safety, mademoiselle, as you know. At my house I have a competent guard, and can answer for your being unmolested.’ ‘You can send your guard here,’ she said with a royal air. ‘But, mademoiselle--’ ‘Is it not enough that I have said that I prefer these rooms?’ she replied sharply, dropping her mask on her lap and looking round at me in undisguised displeasure. ‘Are you deaf, sir? Let me tell you, I am in no mood for argument. I am tired with riding. I prefer these rooms, and that is enough!’ Nothing could exceed the determination with which she said these words, unless it were the malicious pleasure in thwarting my wishes which made itself seen through the veil of assumed indifference. I felt myself brought up with a vengeance, and in a manner the most provoking that could be conceived. But opposition so childish, so utterly wanton, by exciting my indignation, had presently the effect of banishing the peculiar bashfulness I felt in her presence, and recalling me to my duty. ‘Mademoiselle,’ I said firmly, looking at her with a fixed countenance, ‘pardon me if I speak plainly. This is no time for playing with straws. The men from whom you escaped once are as determined and more desperate now. By this time they probably know of your arrival. Do, then, as I ask, I pray and beseech you. Or this time I may lack the power, though never the will, to save you.’ Wholly ignoring my appeal, she looked into my face--for by this time I had advanced to her side--with a whimsical smile. ‘You are really much improved in manner since I last saw you,’ she said. ‘Mademoiselle!’ I replied, baffled and repelled. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘What I say,’ she answered, flippantly. ‘But it was to be expected.’ ‘For shame!’ I cried, provoked almost beyond bearing by her ill-timed raillery, ‘will you never be serious until you have ruined us and yourself? I tell you this house is not safe for you! It is not safe for me! I cannot bring my men to it, for there is not room for them. If you have any spark of consideration, of gratitude, therefore--’ ‘Gratitude!’ she exclaimed, swinging her mask slowly to and fro by a ribbon, while she looked up at me as though my excitement amused her. ‘Gratitude--‘tis a very pretty phrase, and means much; but it is for those who serve us faithfully, M. de Marsac, and not for others. You receive so many favours, I am told, and are so successful at Court, that I should not be justified in monopolising your services.’