"Oh, so, dear Madame, you have got your treasures back. All's well that ends well."
"The library is in perfect order," asserted Madame d'Esparvieu. "There is nothing missing."
"The library is on the floor above this, is it not?" asked young Madame des Aubels, showing an unexpected interest in the books.
Madame d'Esparvieu replied that the library occupied the whole of the second floor, and that they had put the least valuable books in the attics.
"Could I not go and look at it?"
The mistress of the house declared that nothing could be easier. She called to her son:
"Maurice, go and do the honours of the library to Madame des Aubels."
Maurice rose, and without uttering a word, mounted to the second floor in the wake of Madame des Aubels.
He appeared indifferent, but inwardly he rejoiced, for he had no doubt that Gilberte had feigned her ardent desire to inspect the library simply to see him in secret. And, while affecting indifference, he promised himself to renew those offers which, this time, would not be refused.
Under the romantic bust of Alexandre d'Esparvieu, they were met by the silent shadow of a little wan, hollow-eyed old man, who wore a settled expression of mute terror.