water unobserved and add a few drops of brandy from a pocket flask. In a few minutes I was back again. The girl was lying as I had left her, but a few sips of the brandy and water revived her in a marvelous manner.
“Take me out of here—oh, quickly, quickly!” she cried, shuddering.
Supporting her with my arm, I led her out into the air, and she pulled the door behind her. Then she drew a deep breath.
“That’s better. Oh, it was horrible! Why did you ever let me go in?"
I felt this to be so feminine that I could not forbear a smile. Secretly I was not dissatisfied with her collapse. It proved that she was not quite so callous as I had thought her. After all, she was little more than a child, and her curiosity had probably been of the unthinking order.
“I did my best to stop you, you know,” I said gently.
“I suppose you did. Well, good-by.”
“Look here, you can’t start off like that—all alone. You’re not fit for it. I insist on accompanying you back to Merlinville.”
“Nonsense. I’m quite all right now.”
“Supposing you felt faint again? No, I shall come with you.”
But this she combated with a good deal of energy. In the end, however, I prevailed so far as to be allowed to accompany her to the outskirts of the town. We retraced our steps over our former route, passing the grave again, and making a detour onto the road. Where the first straggling line of shops began, she stopped and held out her hand.
“Good-by, and thank you ever so much for coming with me.”
“Are you sure you’re all right now?”
“Quite, thanks. I hope you won’t get into any trouble over showing me things?”
I disclaimed the idea lightly.
“Well, good-by.”
“Au revoir,” I corrected. “If you’re staying here, we shall meet again.”
She flashed a smile at me.
67
