“Have you been bored? Mais non! I have not been so long gone.  Why are you not still resting, cherie, as I told you?”

She looked at him, and still—­though her eyes laughed their gladness—­the wistfulness remained.  “I am—­quite rested, monseigneur.  And the tiredness—­quite gone.  And now you are going to take me to see the sights of Paris?”

“Those of them you don’t know?” suggested Saltash.

She nodded.  “I don’t know very many.  I never went very far.  I was afraid.”

He twisted his hand through her arm, and his fingers closed upon her wrist.  “You are not afraid—­with me?” he questioned.

Her eyes answered him before her voice.  “Never, monseigneur.”

“Why do you call me that?” said Saltash.

She coloured at the abrupt question.  “It suits you.”

He made his monkeyish grimace, and suddenly dropped his eyes to the blue-veined wrist in his grasp.  “Are you happy, mignonne?” he asked her, still obviously in jesting mood.

Toby’s eyes dropped also.  She mutely nodded.

“The truth, Nonette?” His look flashed over her; his tone was imperious.

She nodded again.  “I always tell you—­the truth.”

He began to laugh. “Mais vraiment!  I had not thought that likely.  Then you do not want to leave me—­yet?”

“Leave you!” Her eyes came up to his in wide amazement.  “I!”

“We have been married three days,” he reminded her, with comically working brows.  “And I—­have I not already begun to leave you—­to neglect you?”

“I—­I—­I never expected—­anything else,” stammered Toby, suddenly averting her face.

He patted her cheek with careless kindliness.  “How wise of you, my dear!  How wise!  Then you are not yet—­sufficiently ennuyee to desire to leave me?”

“Why—­why do you ask?” questioned Toby.

There was a species of malicious humour about him that made her uneasy.  Saltash in a mischievous mood was not always easy to restrain.  He did not immediately reply to her question, and she turned with a hint of panic and tightly clasped his arm.

“It is—­you who are—­ennuye!” she said, with piteous eyes upraised.

He flicked her cheek with his thumb, his odd eyes gleaming.  “Not so, Miladi Saltash!  For me—­the game is just begun.  But—­should you desire to leave me—­the opportunity is yours.  A knight has arrived to the rescue—­a very puissant knight!”

“A knight!” gasped Toby, trembling.  “Ah!  Tell me what you mean!”

His look was openly mocking.  “A knight in gaiters!” he told her lightly.  “A knight who bears—­or should bear—­a horsewhip in place of a sword—­that is, if I know him aright!”

“Jake!” she gasped incredulously.

He laughed afresh.  “Even so!  Jake!  Most worthy—­and most obtrusive!  What shall we do with him, lady mine?  Slay him—­or give him a feed and send him home?”