"The train will run, I hope? I am anxious to get on."
"But assuredly it will run. Even without monsieur it would run. The carriages are wanted at the other end for the return journey. Stay, what have we here?"
We stood talking together on the platform, and at some little distance from the railway station, the road to which was clear and open all the way, so that I could see a little party of four approaching us, and distinguish them. Two ladies, an official, probably one of the guards, and a porter laden with light luggage.
As they came up I discreetly withdrew to my own compartment, the window of which was open, so that I could hear and see all that passed.
"Can we have places for Lucerne?" It was asked in an eager, anxious, but very sweet voice, and in excellent French.
"Places?" echoed the conductor. "Madame can have fifty."
"What did I tell madame?" put in the official who had escorted her.
"I don't want fifty," she replied, pettishly, crossly, "only two. A separate compartment for myself and maid; the child can come in with us."
Now for the first time I noticed that the maid was carrying a bundle in her arms, the nature of which was unmistakable. The way in which she swung it to and fro rhythmically was that of a nurse and child.
"If madame prefers, the maid and infant can be accommodated apart," suggested the obliging conductor.