“Have you said all the wickedness in your heart, Annette?” she asked sternly. “You know that false, false, false! are all your words. The truth I had from Achille--the whole truth--and Leonard has not run away; why then should he run away? Your uncle Gerardus tells me that very wisely and very honourably he behaved. Also, I heard from him about the affair in New Orleans. That, then, was a duel to be proud of.” “In New Orleans? What affair in New Orleans, grandmother? I never heard of that.” “Achille can tell you. Ask him.” “He has not told me, and he knows. You see then, how much he trusts me, grandmother. I will not ask him. You tell me, grandmother.” “No, I will not tell you what he has kept from you. Good reasons he may have, of which I know nothing.” “_So!_ I begin to find out things! Very good! I shall make Achille tell me.” “Can you make Achille speak if he wishes not to speak? Try it once, and you will be sorry. Annette, Annette, I fear me for your future, if so unreasonable you are!” “Unreasonable! Grandmother! I assure you I have many good reasons for all I do. Very unhappy I have been lately! Oh, I wish you would pity me a little!” “Surely Annette St. Ange needs not pity. Come, now, tell me all your troubles,--very small are they,--and in telling they will go away. Achille loves you--is kind to you; Jonaca is well, you are well--what then is the matter?” “If Achille loves me, he loves far better that pastry cook.” “There it is--‘that pastry cook.’ You have no good right to use those words, and well you know it. The pastry cook De Singeron is now Count de Singeron, and goes home to take again his place in a court regiment. But _so!_ even if he were yet a pastry cook, he is the friend of Achille; he is loved by Achille; by you also he ought to be loved for Achille’s sake.” “You always take Achille’s part.” “When Achille is right and you are wrong.” “Thank goodness, I have done with the Count de Singeron! He left New York yesterday, and Achille sat up all night and cried about it.” “Have you quarrelled--you and Achille?” “No one can quarrel with Achille. If I get angry he says only, ‘Madame is not well,’ or ‘Madame needs a little rest,’ and then bows and leaves me--perhaps he kisses my hand, and then I feel as if I should like to---- Oh, grandmother, it is terrible! If he would only get angry!” “My dear one, you know not the anger of such men as Achille. _That_ would be terrible indeed! I warn you of it. To rude words or cross words he will never condescend; but--but--the thing he will _do_, if you love him, your heart it will break!” “He does not talk to me as he should. Here is this New Orleans affair! I am not told of it, and Leonard’s duel with Mr. Gilson I knew nothing of till it was over--and so it was really Achille who is to blame for the trouble with Sappha.” “Oh! Oh! The trouble with Sappha! What did you do to Sappha, Annette?” “Nothing much--it is not worth telling you, grandmother.”