Gex slipped away silently, and stole almost guiltily into his little den. He had discovered one of the child’s secret pleasures, as well as one of her rare gifts, and he felt that he had no right to possess such wonderful knowledge.
“Ma foi!” he thought, wiping way a fugitive tear, for the music had awakened slumbering memories, “some one ought to know of that voice. I wish Mam’selle d’Hautreve wasn’t so unapproachable; I’d speak to her, and perhaps she’d teach the child.”
Presently Lady Jane entered, carrying Tony languidly; she said good-morning as politely as usual, and smiled her charming smile, but she seemed preoccupied, and unusually serious. With a tired sigh she dropped Tony on the floor, and climbed up to her chair, where she sat for some time in deep thought. At length she said in an intensely earnest voice: “Oh, Mr. Gex, I wish I could get inside that gate some way. I wish I could see who it is that sings.”
“Vhy, my leetle lady, it’s Mam’selle Diane vhat sings so fine.”
“Who is Mam’selle Diane?”
“Mam’selle Diane is the daughter of Madame d’Hautreve vhat live all alone in the leetle shut-up house. Madame and Mam’selle Diane, they are noblesse, of the nobility. Vell, you don’t know vhat is that. Attendez, I vill try to make you understand.”
“Is it rich?” asked Lady Jane, anxious to help simplify the situation.
“Oh no, no, they are vairy, vairy poor; noblesse is vhat you’re born vith.”
“Like the spine in the back,” suggested Lady Jane eagerly. “Pepsie says you’re born with that.”
“No, it’s not that,” and Gex smiled a grim, puzzled smile, and pushing his spectacles on the top of his head, he wiped his forehead thoughtfully. “You’ve heard of the king, my leetle lady, now haven’t you.”