The magistrate struggled in the midst of inextricable difficulties, without a plan, without an idea.
He arose.
“Oh!” he said in a loud voice, as though encouraging himself, “at the Palais, all will be unravelled.”
CHAPTER XVI.
M. Daburon had been surprised at Claire’s visit.
M. de Commarin was still more so, when his valet whispered to him that Mademoiselle d’Arlange desired a moment’s conversation with him.
M. Daburon had broken a handsome card-plate; M. de Commarin, who was at breakfast, dropped his knife on his plate.
Like the magistrate he exclaimed, “Claire!”
He hesitated to receive her, fearing a painful and disagreeable scene. She could only have, as he knew, a very slight affection for him, who had for so long repulsed her with such obstinacy. What could she want with him? To inquire about Albert, of course. And what could he reply?