“I do not understand,” she said indifferently.
“At least you will know now how a gentleman dresses.”
“It is possible,” she said. “But, if I were one, I should put on my shirt first.”
“Well,” said he, “where is M. de St Denys?”
She stared at him like a cow; but it was the provoking part of her that she would not avert her gaze when he returned it.
“Where,” said she, “if not at the chateau?”
“He recovered his feet then, it would seem?”
“His feet? Oh, mon Dieu! they were not lost! What questions, monsieur!”
“Are they not? And who now is this Lambertine?”
“He is Lambertine—a farmer very prosperous, of Méricourt.”