Perhaps she saw my look of
interest, for she hurriedly continued: "But, pardon me, I am foolish. I
shall be better when the pain is gone. Madame is kind; she will let me
sleep this afternoon, perhaps."
I handed her the medicine, and then asked: "How long have you known Mrs.
Falchion, Miss Caron?"
"Only one year."
"Where did you join her?"
"In Australia."
"In Australia? You lived there?"
"No, monsieur, I did not live there."
A thought came to my mind--the nearness of New Caledonia to Australia,
and New Caledonia was a French colony--a French penal colony! I smiled as
I said the word penal to myself. Of course the word could have no
connection with a girl like her, but still she might have lived in the
colony. So I added quietly: "You perhaps had come from New Caledonia?"
Her look was candid, if sorrowful. "Yes, from New Caledonia."
Was she, thought I, the good wife of some convict--some political
prisoner?--the relative of some refugee of misfortune? Whatever she was,
I was sure that she was free from any fault. She evidently thought that I
might suspect something uncomplimentary of her, for she said: "My brother
was an officer at Noumea.
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