"Better think twice."
"Never. It is a trick you wish to play on me."
"Very well." I went to the door, and opened it wide. "You are free to
go."
"To go?"
"It is your mistress's wish."
"She will not send me to prison?"
"She scorns to do anything whatever."
For a moment the girl looked puzzled, and then: "Ah! it is a bad pleasantry; the gendarmes are on the stairs."
I shrugged my shoulders, and at length she tripped quietly out of the
room. I heard her run down-stairs. Then, to my astonishment, the
footfalls approached again, and Yvette re-entered the room and closed
the door.
"I see it is not a bad pleasantry," she began, with her back to the
door. "Mademoiselle is a great lady, and I have always known that; she
is an artist; she has soul--so have I. What you could not force from
me, neither you nor any man, I will tell you of my own free will. You
want to hear of Deschamps?"
I nodded, half-admiring her--perhaps more than half.
"She is a woman to fear. I have told you I used to be her maid before
I came to mademoiselle, and even I was always afraid of her. But I
liked her. We understood each other, Deschamps and I. Mademoiselle
imagines that Deschamps became jealous of her because of a certain
affair that happened at the Opéra Comique several years ago--a mere
quarrel of artists, of which I have seen many. That was partly the
cause, but there was something else. Deschamps used to think that Lord
Clarenceux was in love with her--with her! As a fact, he was not; but
she used to think so, and when Lord Clarenceux first began to pay
attention to mademoiselle, then it was that the jealousy of Deschamps
really sprang up. Ah! I have heard Deschamps swear to--But that is
nothing. She never forgave mademoiselle for being betrothed to Lord
Clarenceux. When he died, she laughed; but her hatred of mademoiselle
was unchanged. It smouldered, only it was very hot underneath. And I
can understand--Lord Clarenceux was so handsome and so rich, the most
fine stern man I ever saw. He used to give me hundred-franc notes."
"Never mind the notes. Why has Deschamps' jealousy revived so suddenly
just recently?"
"Why? Because mademoiselle would come back to the Opéra Comique.
Deschamps could not suffer that. And when she heard it was to be so,
she wrote to me--to me!--and asked if it was true that mademoiselle
was to appear as Carmen. Then she came to see me--me--and I was
obliged to tell her it was true, and she was frightfully angry, and
then she began to cry--oh, her despair! She said she knew a way to
stop mademoiselle from singing, and she begged me to help her, and I
said I would."