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."

"But people count, Monsieur-Valmond."

She hesitated before the name, as if trying to remember, though she
recalled perfectly. It was her tiny fashion to pique, to appear
unknowing.

"Truly, Madame Chalice," he answered instantly, for he did not yield to
the temptation to pause before her name; "but sometimes the few are as
important to us as the many--eh?"

She almost started at the eh, for it broke in grimly upon the gentlemanly
flavour of his speech.