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Then the last places were occupied by the rulers' granddaughter and grandson, Mademoiselle Berthe and Monsieur Christophe, who were as yet unable to walk long distances. And the chariot rolled on with much majesty, albeit that for fear of the rain the curtains of stout white linen had already been half-drawn, thus giving the vehicle, at a distance, somewhat of the aspect of a miller's van.
Even the fair Berthe was struck by it; one day she told him of it, and, without a word of warning, kissed him on the lips. The boy started back: he went pale and shuddering, and flung away in disgust. The young woman had no time to notice him: she was already quarreling with Joussier.
The cool provision of the funds at Lausanne by Berthe Louison, her separate route to Delhi, her business-like coldness in their strangely frank relations, all these things proved to him that he was to be only an intelligent tool; not a trusted friend in the little drama about to open at the old capital of Oude.
That night, when Justine Delande reached Paris, she was assured in her heart that her own future fortunes were safe, and that her sister would surely be the recipient of Nadine Johnstone's future bounty. For Madame Berthe Louison, ever armed against possible treachery, announced her own instant departure for Poland.
"To think how easy and content we thought ourselves even three days ago. Now, I want to say, 'Come, Berthe come with me.... I want to take you to some quiet place, back in the States, in the country by the water. Yes, north country by some lake that would be frozen when we got there. That's where the silence is, that winter silence. A cabin, a roaring fire you and I together, alone.
Is gallantry, then, dead in France, that they no longer talk about abductions or adventures as they did formerly?" The girl made a long search through the columns of the newspaper. "Here is one," she said. "It is entitled 'A Love Drama!" The old woman smiled through her wrinkles. "Read that for me," she said. And Berthe commenced. It was a case of vitriol throwing.
Berthe had answered freely, but of Duke Fallows she had not spoken in a way to satisfy his questions. In fact, it was not until the day that Peter first crossed the little room alone that she seemed ready to speak. That afternoon he had called her from the window. "Where is Fallows, Berthe?" "Not far from here," she said.
"I want to talk to you about something which will interest you, I'm sure," Berthe answered. "Anything to be got out of it?" was the giant's next enquiry. Berthe smiled. "I expect so, or I wouldn't have troubled you."
He was looking at her persistently with a fixed smile. He wished to speak, but found nothing to say, and so sat there, expressing all his ardor by pressures of the hand. From time to time he would murmur: "Berthe!" And each time she would raise her eyes to him with a look of tenderness; they would look at each other for a second and then her look, pierced and fascinated by his, would fall.
Berthe appeared to draw a certain truth from the situation. Perhaps she saw the woman in Boylan the mysterious, draggled creature which he designated his devil on occasion. The old war-wolf gave her credit for no such penetration. Still she kept herself second, advised, assisted for a few moments, but would not let Boylan go. "He's knit to you. He might die if you go," she said.
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