The Cure instantly presented Valmond to her. She
looked at him brightly, alluringly, apparently so simply; yet her first
act showed the perception behind that rosy and golden face, and the
demure eyes whose lids languished now and then--to the unknowing with an
air of coquetry, to the knowing--did any know her?--as one would shade
one's eyes to see a landscape clearly, or make out a distant figure. As
Valmond bowed, a thought seemed to fetch down the pink eyelids, and she
stretched out her hand, which he took and kissed, while she said in
English, though they had been talking in French:
"A traveller too, like myself, Monsieur Valmond? But Pontiac--why
Pontiac?"
A furtive, inquiring look shot from the eyes of the young Seigneur, a
puzzled glance from the Cure's, as they watched Valmond; for they did not
know that he had knowledge of English; he had not spoken it to Medallion,
who had sent into his talk several English words. How did this woman
divine it?
A strange suspicion flashed into Valmond's face, but it was gone on the
instant, and he replied quickly:
"Yes, madame, a traveller; and for Pontiac--there is as much earth and
sky about Pontiac as about Paris or London or New York.
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