However, Marguerite Blakeney was surely not the woman to allow such fancies to dry the well of her pity. The gallant Scarlet Pimpernel was not wont to pause in his errands of mercy in order to reflect whether the objects of his selfless immolation were worthy of it or no. So Marguerite, with a determined little sigh, chided herself for her disloyalty and cowardice, and having dried her tears she went within. CHAPTER XVI A LOVER OF SPORT §1 For the first five minutes, Sir Percy Blakeney and Madame de Fontenay walked side by side in silence. Then she spoke. "You are silent, milor?" she queried, speaking in perfect English. "I was thinking," he replied curtly. "What!" "That a remarkably fine actress is lost in the fashionable Theresia Cabarrus." "Madame de Fontenay, I pray you, milor," she retorted dryly. "Theresia Cabarrus nevertheless. Madam Tallien probably to-morrow: for Madame divorced that weak-kneed marquis as soon as the law 'contre les émigrés' allowed her to regain her freedom." "You seem very well informed, milor." "Almost as well as Madame herself," he riposted with a pleasant laugh. "Then you do not believe my story?" "Not one word of it!" he replied. "Strange!" she mused. "For every word of it is true." "Demmed strange!" he assented. "Of course I did not tell all," she went on, with sudden vehemence. "I could not. My lady would not understand. She has become--what shall I say?--very English. Marguerite St. Just would understand . . . Lady Blakeney--no?" "What would Lady Blakeney not understand!" "Eh bien! About Bertrand Moncrif." "Ah?" "You think I did harm to the boy . . . I know . . . you took him away from me . . . You! The Scarlet Pimpernel! . . . You see, I know! I know everything! Chauvelin told me . . ." "And guided you most dexterously to my door," he concluded with a pleasant laugh. "There to enact a delicious comedy of gruff-voiced bully and pathetic victim of a merciless persecution. It was all excellently done! Allow me to offer you my sincere congratulations!" She said nothing for a moment or two, then queried abruptly: "You think that I am here in order to spy upon you!" "Oh!" he riposted lightly, "how could I be so presumptuous as to suppose that the beautiful Cabarrus would bestow attention on so unworthy an object as I?" "'Tis you now, milor," she rejoined drily, "who choose to play a rôle. A truce on it, I pray you; and rather tell me what you mean to do." To this query he gave no reply, and his silence appeared to grate on Theresia's nerves, for she went on harshly: "You will betray me to the police, of course. And as I am here without papers----" He put up his hand with that gently deprecating gesture which was habitual to him. "Oh!" he said, with his quiet little laugh, "why should you think I would do anything so unchivalrous!"