"This is my friend Young, who is a poet," continued Schneider.
The same movement of the head again meaning, "I know his verses."
"And, lastly, here is my friend Monnet, who is neither a musician nor a poet, but who has eyes and a heart, and who is disposed, as I can see at a glance, to plead your cause for you. As for this young friend, as you see, he is only a student; but he knows enough to conjugate the verb, to love, in three languages. You may therefore explain yourself before them, unless what you have to say is sufficiently confidential to require a private interview."
And he rose as he spoke, pointing to a half open door, leading into an empty salon. But the young girl replied, quickly: "No, no, monsieur—"
Schneider frowned.
"Your pardon, citizen. No, citizen, what I have to say fears neither light nor publicity."
Schneider sat down, motioning to the young girl to take a chair. But she shook her head.
"It is more fitting that suppliants should stand," she said.
"Then," said Schneider, "let us proceed regularly. I have told you who we are; will you tell us who you are?"
"My name is Clotilde Brumpt."