I fled, and as a coach chanced to come that way, I clutched at the window and hung there.

Within the coach there were two ladies, and one of them, taking compassion upon me, invited me to enter and thus rescued me.

That lady, sir," I ended with a bow, "was Mademoiselle your daughter." In his eyes I read it that he had guessed the name of my nameless gentleman.
The ladies were struck dumb by my apparent effrontery.

Yvonne at last recovered sufficiently to ask if my presence at the chateau arose from my being attached to M.de Mancini.

Now, "attached" is an unpleasant word.