“I mean,” she said, “that before you came he was more than a friend.  It was you who drove his thoughts of me away.  You with your great fortune, and your childish, foreign ways.  Oh, I talk like a fool, I know!” she said, springing up, “but I am not a fool.  I do not hate you.  I have never tried to do you any harm.  It is not your fault.  It is what one calls fate.  Once,” she cried, “we Caynsards lived along the coast there in a house greater than the Red Hall, and our lands were richer.  Generation after generation of us have been pushed by fortune downwards and downwards.  The men lose lands and money, and the women disgrace themselves, or creep into some corner to die with a broken heart.  I talk to you as one of the villagers here.  I know very well that I speak the dialect of the peasants, and that my words are ill-chosen.  How can I help it?  We are all paupers, every one of us.  That is why sometimes I feel that I cannot breathe.  That is why I do mad things, and people believe that I am indeed out of my mind.”

She sprang to her feet.  Jeanne tried to detain her.

“Let me talk to you for a little time, Kate,” she begged.  “You are none of the things you fancy, and I am very sure that Mr. De la Borne does not care for me, or for my fortune.  Stay just for a minute.”

But Kate was already gone.  Jeanne could see her speeding down to the harbour, and a few minutes later gliding down the creek in her little catboat.

The Count de Brensault was angry, and he had not sufficient dignity to hide it.  The Princess, in whose boudoir he was, regarded him from her sofa as one might look at some strange animal.

“My dear Count,” she said, “it is not reasonable that you should be angry with me.  Is it my fault that I am plagued with a stepdaughter of so extraordinary a temperament?  She will return directly, or we shall find her.  I am sure of it.  The wedding can be arranged then as speedily as you wish.  I give her to you.  I consent to your marriage.  What could woman do more?”

“That is all very well,” the Count said, “all very well indeed, but I do not understand how it is that a young lady could disappear from her home like this, and that her guardian should know nothing about it.  Where could she have gone to?  You say that she had very little money.  Why should she go?  Who was unkind to her?”

“All that I did,” the Princess answered, “was to tell her that she must marry you.”

The Count twirled his moustache.

“Is it likely,” he demanded, “that that should drive her away from her home?  The idea of marriage, it may terrify these young misses at the first thought, but in their hearts they are very, very glad.  Ah!” he added softly, “I have had some experience.  I am not a boy.”

The Princess looked at him.  Whatever her thoughts may have been, her face remained inscrutable.

“No!” the Count continued, drawing his chair a little nearer to the Princess’ couch, and leaning towards her, “I do not believe that it was the fear of marriage which drove little Jeanne to disappear.”