“I was going to give it to my maid. I think it hideous; but if you like it, take it.”
Prudence only saw the present, not the way in which it was given. She put the little figure on one side, and took me into the dressing-room, where she showed me two miniatures hanging side by side, and said:
“That is the Comte de G., who was very much in love with Marguerite; it was he who brought her out. Do you know him?”
“No. And this one?” I inquired, pointing to the other miniature.
“That is the little Vicomte de L. He was obliged to disappear.”
“Why?”
“Because he was all but ruined. That’s one, if you like, who loved Marguerite.”
“And she loved him, too, no doubt?”
“She is such a queer girl, one never knows. The night he went away she went to the theatre as usual, and yet she had cried when he said good-bye to her.”
Just then Nanine appeared, to tell us that supper was served.