His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this expedient. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. “See you. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. The faithful fellow will never leave me.
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