Lemois moved uneasily in his chair. The question had come so unexpectedly, and was so direct, that for a moment he lost his poise. His own attitude, he supposed, had been made quite clear the night of the rescue, when he had denounced Gaston and forbidden Mignon to see him. Yet his manner was grave enough as he answered: "Madame has so many things to occupy her mind, and so many people to help, why should she trouble herself with those of my maid? Mignon is very happy here, and has everything she wants, and she will continue to have them as long as she is alive." "Then I see it is not true, and that you intend breaking her heart; and now will you please tell us why?" She looked at him and waited. There was a new ring--one of command--in her voice. I understood now as I listened why it took so short a time for her to rebuild the villa. "Is madame the girl's guardian that she wishes to know?" asked Lemois. The words came with infinite courtesy, madame being the only woman of whom he stood in awe, but there was an undertone of opposition which, if aggravated, would, I felt sure, end in the old man's abrupt departure from the room. I tried to relieve the situation by saying how happy not only Mignon but any one of us would be with so brilliant an advocate as madame pleading for our happiness, but she waved me aside with: "No--please don't. I want dear Lemois to answer. It was one of my reasons for coming to-night, and he must tell me. He is so kind and considerate, and he is always so sorry for anything that suffers. He loves flowers and birds and animals, and music and pictures and all beautiful things, and yet he is worse than one of the cannibals that Monsieur Herbert tells us about. They eat their young girls and have done with them--Lemois kills his by slow torture--and so I ask you again, dear Lemois--_why_?" Everybody sat up straight. How would Lemois take it? His fingers began to work, and the corners of his mouth straightened. A sudden flush crossed his habitually pale face. We were sure now of an outbreak: what would happen then none of us dared think. "Madame la marquise," he began slowly--too slowly for anything but ill-suppressed feeling--"there is no one that I know for whom I have a higher respect; you must yourself have seen that in the many years I have known you. You are a very good and a very noble woman; all your life people have loved you--they still love you. It is one of your many gifts--one you should be thankful for. Some of us do not win this affection. You are, if you will permit me to say it, never lonely nor alone, except by your own choosing. Some of us cannot claim that--I for one. Do you not now understand?" He was still boiling inside, but the patience of the trained landlord and the innate breeding of the man had triumphed. And then, again, it would be a rash Frenchman of his class who would defy a woman of her exalted rank.