“No, not yet, but the gentleman has.”
“What gentleman?”
“He who was to speak to you this evening.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
This colloquy took place in a kind of ante-chamber opening into her room, which was furnished with old curtains of yellow silk, chairs of green Utrecht velvet, not very new, and an old yellow sofa.
She opened the door, and, going in, saw a man seated on the sofa whom she did not know in the least, although we do, for it was the same man whom we have seen taking so much interest in her at Mesmer’s.
She had not time to question him, for he began immediately: “I know all that you are going to ask, and will tell you without asking. You are Mademoiselle Oliva, are you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“A charming person, highly nervous, and much taken by the system of M. Mesmer.”