“How very kind of you, marquis,” she began, “to respond so soon to my invitation of this morning! I am really distressed to have kept you waiting; but I was dressing. After what has happened to M. de Thaller, it is absolutely indispensable that I should go out, show myself: otherwise our enemies will be going around to-morrow, saying everywhere that I am in Belgium, preparing lodgings for my husband.”
And, suddenly changing her tone,
“But what was that madcap Cesarine telling you?” she asked.
It was with a profound surprise that M. de Tregars discovered that the entente cordiale which he suspected between the mother and daughter did not exist, at least at this moment.
Veiling under a jesting tone the strange conjectures which the unexpected discovery aroused within him,
“Mlle. Cesarine,” he replied, “who is much to be pitied, was telling me all her troubles.”
She interrupted him.
“Do not take the trouble to tell a story, M. le Marquis,” she said. “Mamma knows it as well as yourself; for she was listening at the door.”
“Cesarine!” exclaimed Mme. de Thaller.
“And, if she came in so suddenly, it is because she thought it was fully time to cut short my confidences.”