Mme. Zelie Cadelle was certainly not particularly virtuous; but she was far from being the woman he expected to meet.
“At any rate,” he said, “you did well to wait patiently.”
“I do not regret it.”
“If you can keep this house—”
She interrupted him with a great burst of laughter.
“This house!” she exclaimed. “Why, it was sold long ago, with every thing in it,—furniture, horses, carriages, every thing except me. A young gentleman, very well dressed, bought it for a tall girl, who looks like a goose, and has far over a thousand francs of red hair on her head.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Sure as I live, having seen with my own eyes the young swell and his red-headed friend counting heaps of bank-notes to M. Vincent. They are to move in day after to-morrow; and they have invited me to the house-warming. But no more of it for me, I thank you! I am sick and tired of all these people. And the proof of it is, I am busy packing my things; and lots of them I have too,—dresses, underclothes, jewelry. He was a good-natured fellow, old Vincent was, anyhow. He gave me money enough to buy some furniture. I have hired a small apartment; and I am going to set up dress-making on my own hook. And won’t we laugh then! and won’t we have some fun to make up for lost time! Come, my children, take your places for a quadrille. Forward two!”
And, bouncing out of her chair, she began sketching out one of those bold cancan steps which astound the policemen on duty in the ball-rooms.
“Bravo!” said M. de Tregars, forcing himself to smile,—“bravo!”