Then, remembering she was a hostess, with the instinctive courtesy of her
race, she said: "Ah, pardon, madame; you meant nothing, I'm sure."

"Why should fine folk make poor folk unhappy?" said Madame Chalice,
quietly and sorrowfully, for she saw that Elise was suffering, and all
the woman in her came to her heart and lips. She laid her hand on the
girl's arm. "Indeed yes, why should fine folk make poor folk unhappy?
It is not I alone who makes you unhappy, Elise."

The girl angrily shook off the hand, for she read the true significance
of the words.

"What are you trying to find out?" she asked fiercely. "What do you
want to do? Did I ever come in your way? Why do you come into mine?
What's my life to you? Nothing, nothing at all. You're here to-day and
away to-morrow. You're English; you're not of us. Can't you see that I
want to be left alone?

"If I were unhappy, I could look after myself. But I'm not, I'm not--I
tell you I'm not! I'm happy. I never knew what happiness was till now.
I'm so happy that I can stand here and not insult you, though you've
insulted me."

"I meant no insult, Elise. I want to help you; that is all. I know how
hard it is to confide in one's kinsfolk, and I wish with all my heart I
might be your friend, if you ever need me."

Elise met her sympathetic look clearly and steadily. "Speak plain to me,
madame," she said.