“I obey, Madame, I am silent.  But listen!  I have followed the fortunes of madame quite across the sea.  As madame knows, I do not lack intelligence.  I have read—­many romances, my heart not lacking interest.  Always I have read, I have dreamed, of some man who should carry me away, who should oblige me—­Ah, Madame! what girl has not in her soul some hero?  Almost I was about to say it was the sight, the words, of the boldness, the audacity of this assassin, this brute, who has brought us here by force—­the words of his love so passionate to madame, which stirred in my own heart the passion!  That I might be stolen!  It was the dream of my youth!  And now comes this Hector, far more bold and determined than this Mr. Dunwodee.  That assassin, that brute began, but hesitated.  Ah, Hector has not hesitated!  Seeing that he would in any case possess myself, would carry me away, I yielded, but with honor and grace, Madame.  As between Monsieur Dunwodee and Hector—­il y a une difference, Madame!”

“Je crois qu’ oui, Jeanne—­Je le crois!  But it comes to the same thing, eh?  You forsake me?”

“Madame, I confess sometimes in my heart there comes a desire for a home, for a place where one may abide, where one may cease to wander.”

Josephine sat silent for a moment.  In what direction might she herself now turn for even the humblest friendship?  And where was any home now for her?  The recreant maid saw something of this upon her face.

“Madame,” she exclaimed, falling upon her knees in consternation.  “To think I would desert you!  In my heart resides nothing but loyalty for you.  How could you doubt?”

But Josephine was wise in her own way.  That night Jeanne kissed her hand dutifully, yet the very next morning she had changed her mind.  With sobs, tears, she admitted that she had decided to leave service, no longer to be Jeanne, but Madame Hector Fournier.  Thus, at the very time when she most would have needed aid and attendance, Josephine saw herself about to be left alone.

“But, Madame,” said Jeanne, still tearful, returning after brief absence from the room, “although I leave now for St. Genevieve to stand before the priest, I shall not see madame left without attendance.  See, I have asked of this Lily person,—­la voici, Madame—­if she could take service with madame.  Madame plans soon to return to the East.  Perhaps this Lily, then—­”

“Ma’am, I want to work for you!” broke out Lily suddenly, stretching out her hands.  “I don’t want to go back home.  I want to go with you.  I cain’t go back home—­I’d only run away—­again.  They’d have to kill me.”

Some swift arithmetic was passing through Josephine’s mind at the time.  Here, then, was concrete opportunity to set in practice some of her theories.

“Lily, would you like to come with me as my maid?” she demanded.  “Could you learn, do you think, in case I should need you?”