“At fourteen.”
“Yes, you could not have been older to have a son of Roland’s age. But pray sit down.”
She led the way, making a sign to Madame de Montrevel to sit beside her.
“And that charming boy,” she said, pointing to Edouard, “is he also your son?” And she gave a sigh. “God has been prodigal to you, madame, and as He has given you all you can desire, will you not implore Him to send me a son.”
She pressed her lips enviously to Edouard’s forehead.
“My husband will be delighted to see you, he is so fond of your son, madame! You would not have been brought to me in the first instance, if he were not engaged with the minister of police. For that matter,” she added, laughing, “you have arrived at an unfortunate moment; he is furious!”
“Oh!” cried Madame de Montrevel, frightened; “if that is so, I would rather wait.”
“No, no! On the contrary, the sight of you will calm him. I don’t know just what is the matter; but it seems a diligence was stopped on the outskirts of the Black Forest in broad daylight. Fouché will find his credit in danger if the thing goes on.”
Madame de Montrevel was about to answer when the door opened and an usher appeared.
“The First Consul awaits Madame de Montrevel,” he said.