The old woman disappeared, but returned almost immediately. "She says that to-morrow will be too late."
"Then why didn't she come sooner?"
"Because that was impossible," said a soft supplicating voice in the ante-chamber. "Let me see you, I beg, I implore you!"
Euloge, with a gesture of impatience, bade the old cook pull the door to and come close to him. But then, remembering the freshness and youthfulness of the voice, he said with the smile of a satyr: "Is she young?"
"Maybe eighteen," replied the old woman.
"Pretty?"
"With the devil's own beauty."
The three men began to laugh.
"You hear, Schneider, the devil's own beauty.