It was too dark for her to be enabled to read it in the passage on the landing.
Mademoiselle de Robespierre re-entered the apartment, inviting me to follow her.
I entered a sort of dining-room, opening on a study and bed-room.
All was cold, cheerless, and almost unfurnished. If not actually miserable, it was far below mediocrity.
Mademoiselle Robespierre read her brother’s letter.
“When my brother thinks it needless to tell me where he is, he has his reasons. You have seen him, sir?”
“I have just left him, mademoiselle.”
“Nothing has happened to him?”
“Nothing.”
“Give him my congratulations, sir, and thank for me those people who have been hospitable to him. I would that, after the long walk you have had, I could offer you refreshment; but my brother is so sober, and has such few wants, that we have naught but water in the house.”