“What business is it of yours, sir, where the young woman is?” she asked.
“I mean her no harm,” I urged eagerly. “If she is safe here, I ask to know no more; I don’t even ask to see her. Is she here? The Duchess of Saint-Maclou told me that you refused to send her away.”
“God forbid that I should send away any sinner who will find refuge here,” she said solemnly. “You have seen the duchess?”
“Yes; she is at home. But Mlle. Delhasse?”
But the old woman would not be hurried. She asked again:
“What concern have you, sir, with Marie Delhasse?”
I looked her in the face as I answered plainly:
“To save her from the Duke of Saint-Maclou.”
“And from her own mother, sir?”
“Yes, above all from her own mother.”
The old woman started at my words; but there was no change in the level calm of her voice as she asked:
“And why would you rescue her?”
“For the same reason that any gentleman would, if he could. If you want more”
She held up her hand to silence me; but her look was gentler and her voice softer, as she said:
“You, sir, cannot save, and I cannot save, those who will not let God himself save them.”
“What do you mean?” I cried in a frenzy of fear and eagerness.
