Saint-Vire went out, and crossed the hall to the little withdrawing-room. A lady was standing by the window, enveloped in a cloak, and with a veil hanging down over her face. She turned as Saint-Vire came in, and put back the veil with a small, resolute hand. Saint-Vire looked into his daughter’s dark eyes.
‘Oho!’ he said softly, and looked for the key to the door.
‘I have it,’ Léonie said calmly. ‘And I will tell you, m’sieur, that my maid waits for me in the street. If I do not come to her in half an hour she will go at once to Monseigneur and tell him that I am here.’
‘Very clever,’ Saint-Vire said smoothly. ‘What is it that you want of me? Are you not afraid to put yourself in my power?’
‘Bah!’ said Léonie, and let him see her little gold-mouthed pistol.
Saint-Vire came further into the room.
‘A pretty toy,’ he sneered, ‘but I know what women are with such playthings.’
‘Quant à ca,’ said Léonie frankly. ‘I should like very much to kill you, because you gave me an evil drink, but I won’t kill you unless you touch me.’
‘Oh, I thank you, mademoiselle! To w
hat am I indebted for this visit?’
Léonie fixed her eyes on his face.
‘Monsieur, you shall tell me now if it is true that you are my father.’
Saint-Vire said nothing, but stood very still, waiting.
‘Speak you!’ Léonie said fiercely. ‘Are you my father?’
‘My child –’ Saint-Vire spoke softly. ‘Why do you ask me that?’
‘Because they are saying that I am your base-born daughter. Tell me, is it true?’ She stamped her foot at him.
‘My poor child!’ Saint-Vire approached, but was confronted by the nozzle of the pistol. ‘You need not fear, petite. It has never been mine intention to harm you.’
‘Pig-person!’ Léonie said. ‘I am not afraid of anything, but if you come near me I shall be sick. Is it true what they say?’
‘Yes, my child,’ he said, and achieved a sigh.
‘How I hate you!’ she said with fervour.
‘Will you not be seated?’ he asked. ‘It grieves me to hear you say that you hate me, but indeed I understand what you must feel. I am very sorry for you, petite.’
‘I will not be seated,’ Léonie said flatly, ‘and it makes me feel worse when you call me petite, and say you are sorry for me. More than ever I want to kill you.’
Saint-Vire was rather shocked.
‘I am your father, child!’
‘I do not care at all,’ she replied. ‘You are an evil person, and if it is true that I am your daughter you are more evil than even I thought.’
‘You do not understand the ways of the world we live in,’ he sighed. ‘A youthful indiscretion – you must not think too hardly of me, child. I will do all in my power to provide for you, and indeed I am greatly exercised over your welfare. I believed you to be in the charge of some worthy people once in mine employ. You may judge of my feelings when I found you in the Duc of Avon’s clutches.’ Before the look on Léonie’s face he recoiled a little.
‘If you speak one word against Monseigneur I will shoot you dead,’ said Léonie softly.
‘I do not speak against him, child. Why should I? He is no worse than any of us, but it grieves me to see you in his toils. I cannot but take an interest in you, and I fear for you when it becomes common knowledge that you are my daughter.’
She said nothing. After a moment he continued.
‘In our world, child, we dislike open scandal. That is why I tried to rescue you from Avon a while back. I wish that I had told you then why I carried you off, but I thought to spare you that unpleasant knowledge.’