'And there's still time to go back, Jill. We could ask Joseph not to tell the old lady, and she'd never be the wiser.'
'But Dick—leave Buissac!—How too nonsensical you are! And it's not only her; we've come to see Mademoiselle Ludérac as well.'
'I haven't come to see her,' said Graham. 'But since you'll have it so—' He went forward and laid his hand gently on Madame de Lamouderie's shoulder.
She raised her head, opened her eyes and looked up at him; fixedly; quietly. She wore no paint; nor any lace on her white hair. She was beautiful, Jill thought, watching her awaken under Graham's touch. There was something innocent, even lovely, in her look. 'Que me voulez-vous?' she said in a tranced voice.
'A cup of tea,' smiled Graham. 'And a promise that I shall paint you as the Sleeping Beauty.'
The old lady still sat leaning back in her chair, motionless; gazing at him. 'Everything you wish—everything you wish,' she murmured. 'How have you found me? I have waited long for you.'
'Clever princes always find their princesses,' said Graham; but he was troubled and cast a questioning glance on Jill, standing behind him.
She came forward to his rescue. 'It's spring, and we've come back, as we said we should,' she told the old lady, whose eyes, still tranquil from their dream, turned on her. 'Don't you remember Richard and Gillian Graham?'
