You understand?"
Cigarette gave an affirmative gesture. Her eyes were fastened suddenly,
yet with a deep, bright glow in them, upon her companion; she was
beginning to see her way through his secret--a secret she was too
intrinsically loyal even now to dream of betraying.
"You spoke very nobly for him to-day. You have the fealty of one brave
character to another, I am sure!" pursued Venetia Corona, purposely
avoiding all hints of any warmer feeling on her listener's part, since
she saw how tenacious the girl was of any confession of it. "You would
do him service if you could, I fancy. Am I right?"
"Oh, yes!" answered Cigarette, with an over-assumption of carelessness.
"He is bon zig; we always help each other. Besides, he is very good to
my men. What is it you want of me?"
"To preserve secrecy on what I have told you for his sake; and to give
him a message from me."
Cigarette laughed scornfully; she was furious with herself for standing
obediently like a chidden child to hear this patrician's bidding, and
to do her will. And yet, try how she would, she could not shake off the
spell under which those grave, sweet, lustrous eyes of command held her.
"Pardieu, Milady! Do you think I babble like any young drunk with his
first measure of wine? As for your message, you had better let him come
and hear what you have to say; I cannot promise to remember it!"
"Your answer is reckless; I want a serious one.
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