Something comical must have happened at this moment, which Mme. Zelie Cadelle said nothing about; for she was laughing most heartily, —a frank and sonorous laughter.
“Then,” she resumed, “he begins at once to explain that I remind him of a person whom he loved tenderly, and whom he has just had the misfortune to lose, adding, that he would deem himself the happiest of men if I would allow him to take care of me, and insure me a brilliant position.”
“You see! That rascally Vincent!” said M. de Tregars, just to be saying something.
Mme. Zelie shook her head.
“You know him,” she resumed. “He is not young; he is not handsome; he is not funny. I did not fancy him one bit; and, if I had only known where to find shelter for the night, I’d soon have sent him to the old Nick,—him and his brilliant position. But, not having enough money to buy myself a penny-loaf, it wasn’t the time to put on any airs. So I tell him that I accept. He goes for a cab; we get into it; and he brings me right straight here.”
Positively M. de Tregars required his entire self-control to conceal the intensity of his curiosity.
“Was this house, then, already as it is now?” he interrogated.
“Precisely, except that there were no servants in it, except the chambermaid Amanda, who is M. Favoral’s confidante. All the others had been dismissed; and it was a hostler from a stable near by who came to take care of the horses.”
“And what then?”
“Then you may imagine what I looked like in the midst of all this magnificence, with my old shoes and my fourpenny skirt. Something like a grease-spot on a satin dress. M. Vincent seemed delighted, nevertheless. He had sent Amanda out to get me some under-clothing and a ready-made wrapper; and, whilst waiting, he took me all through the house, from the cellar to the garret, saying that everything was at my command, and that the next day I would have a battalion of servants to wait on me.”