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the anxiety she saw still in Geoffrey's eyes. "He rode upon his own horse into Paris, I heard. |
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"Thank God for that," Geoffrey sighed. Then, glancing around, "Where am I, my lady? Who are you?" |
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"I am Lady Gilliane, and you are in the keep of Léon de Baisieux." |
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"What!" Geoffrey exclaimed, and, weakly, began to laugh. |
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A look of distress crossed Gilliane's face, but she shrugged her shoulders and started to rise. |
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"Do not go," Geoffrey begged. "I am not wandering in my wits again, I swear. It is only that before the battle, the very day before when I heard how near Baisieux was, I said to myself that I must come and pay my respects to you and to Sir Léon's motherif the older lady who lives here is his mother." |
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Gilliane plumped down upon her seat again, staring with surprise. "It is his mother indeed. How do you know Léon? Is he your prisoner? Have you seen him? How is he?" |
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"He is not my prisoner, nor have I seen him since a year ago, nor do I know aught of his present state," Geoffrey began. But suddenly a cold sweat bathed his body and beaded on his face, and the words slurred and ran into each other. |
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A strange conflict rose in Gilliane's breast. Propriety bade her prod Geoffrey further. After all, she should more ardently desire news of her husband than the welfare of this strangerthis evil stranger, her mother-by-marriage would say. In truth, however, she was far more anxious to prevent Geoffrey from overtiring himself than to learn more about Léon. Pranticality came to her rescue. Geoffrey had already said he had no recent news of Léon. It was therefore unreasonable to fatigue her patient merely to satisfy her own curiosity as to how Geoffrey knew Léon and what he thought of him. |
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"Sleep," she said, getting up again. "You will tell me when you are stronger." |
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