She uttered these righteous reflections and presented this programme for the salvation of her sister’s soul in a reasonable convinced tone which was enough to give goose flesh to one all over.

“Mademoiselle Therese,” I said, “you are nothing less than a monster.”

She received that true expression of my opinion as though I had given her a sweet of a particularly delicious kind.  She liked to be abused.  It pleased her to be called names.  I did let her have that satisfaction to her heart’s content.  At last I stopped because I could do no more, unless I got out of bed to beat her.  I have a vague notion that she would have liked that, too, but I didn’t try.  After I had stopped she waited a little before she raised her downcast eyes.

“You are a dear, ignorant, flighty young gentleman,” she said.  “Nobody can tell what a cross my sister is to me except the good priest in the church where I go every day.”

“And the mysterious lady in grey,” I suggested sarcastically.

“Such a person might have guessed it,” answered Therese, seriously, “but I told her nothing except that this house had been given me in full property by our Rita.  And I wouldn’t have done that if she hadn’t spoken to me of my sister first.  I can’t tell too many people about that.  One can’t trust Rita.  I know she doesn’t fear God but perhaps human respect may keep her from taking this house back from me.  If she doesn’t want me to talk about her to people why doesn’t she give me a properly stamped piece of paper for it?”

She said all this rapidly in one breath and at the end had a sort of anxious gasp which gave me the opportunity to voice my surprise.  It was immense.

“That lady, the strange lady, spoke to you of your sister first!” I cried.

“The lady asked me, after she had been in a little time, whether really this house belonged to Madame de Lastaola.  She had been so sweet and kind and condescending that I did not mind humiliating my spirit before such a good Christian.  I told her that I didn’t know how the poor sinner in her mad blindness called herself, but that this house had been given to me truly enough by my sister.  She raised her eyebrows at that but she looked at me at the same time so kindly, as much as to say, ’Don’t trust much to that, my dear girl,’ that I couldn’t help taking up her hand, soft as down, and kissing it.  She took it away pretty quick but she was not offended.  But she only said, ’That’s very generous on your sister’s part,’ in a way that made me run cold all over.  I suppose all the world knows our Rita for a shameless girl.  It was then that the lady took up those glasses on a long gold handle and looked at me through them till I felt very much abashed.  She said to me, ’There is nothing to be unhappy about.  Madame de Lastaola is a very remarkable person who has done many surprising things.  She is not to be judged like other people and as far as I know she