THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
“Madame,” he said, solemnly, looking out at her from under his dark brows, “before God, I mean you no harm!” He said it as though it were a sacrament. “In half an hour or less I shall be gone from this room, from your life forever. But you must hear what I have to say.” He paused. “No, no, madame. It is not that which you suppose—you need have no fear of me. It is not that—I swear it!”
Mistress Barbara moved uneasily.
“I pray that you will be seated, madame. No? As you please. What I have to say is not short. Shall I begin?”
“’Twere sooner over,” she said, hoarsely.
He bowed politely. “I will endeavor to be brief. Many years ago, your great-grandfather went to Florida with the expedition of Jean Ribault. Perhaps you have been told of the massacre by the Spanish and how the Seigneur de Bresac escaped to France? Merci! You also doubtless know his and your grandfather’s great hatred of the Spanish people as the result of this massacre? Eh bien. Your grandfather told his three daughters—one of whom was your
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