An expression of slight distress crossed her face.
“Does he not want it sold?”
“Monsieur, I beg of you not to question me; I am in great perplexity.” She continued, after a moment’s pause, “You have rarely seen things so exquisite; the secretaire has a secret cabinet, the chest is carved with a scene of nymphs in a wood; the table is a beautiful little table.” She figured these articles in the air with an imaginative wave of her hand. The young man began to regard her with some interest; he remarked to himself that she was a lovely girl.
“I’m sorry my call is inopportune, I will come again.” He left his card on the table.
“Perhaps when you come again it will be more convenient,” she said, following him at some distance to the door. He opened it himself, and went down the steps; as he looked back it was slowly shutting, and he caught a glimpse of her delicate white dress as it closed. Eloise took up the card. The name was Pierre Pechito. She knew the name; it was borne by one of the richest of the city merchants. She took the card up to Maurice. He held it in his emaciated fingers.
“Is this the end of Chapter One?” he asked. “Well, he may never come back; and what will you do with him if he does come back?”
“Oh, he will come; as for the rest, we must succeed. But there is one thing, Maurice, you must be the invisible ogre; you must rage about here as wildly as you can, while I am working out our destiny downstairs.”
“My destiny?” he asked, with a falling touch of sadness in his accent.
A few days after this Pierre returned. “May I come in?” he asked, as Eloise held the door open hesitatingly.
“If you wish, Monsieur.” They sat a moment silently in the parlor.