Arthur signed to the man to go, and came back into the study with his wife. She hesitated a little on the threshold.
"I wished to speak to you," she said, in a low voice.
"I am quite at your service."
He closed the door and pushed forward an armchair, inviting her by a gesture to be seated. These few minutes had sufficed to give him back all that self-control which he had so constantly exercised during the past few weeks. He spoke and moved in a cool measured way, as though showing politeness to a strange lady in a strange salon.
"Will you not sit down?"
"Thank you, I shall not detain you long."
There was something shy and uncertain in her manner which contrasted oddly with her usual composure. Perhaps in these rooms she felt ill at ease, or perhaps she found it hard to open the conversation.
Arthur did not come to her assistance. He saw that she twice tried to find words and failed, but he stood at his table silent and constrained, and waited.
"My father has told me of his talk with you," she began, "and also of its result."
"So I expected, and--excuse me, Eugénie--it was just on that account I was surprised to see you here. I thought you were occupied with the preparations for your departure."