Three or four of the ladies were gathered round her while she rattled on about her holdiday at the seaside. Hélène found it necessary to rise and join the group.
“We spent a month at Dinard,” said Madame de Chermette. “Such a delightful place, and such charming society!”
“Behind our chalet was a garden, and we had a terrace overlooking the sea,” went on Madame Deberle. “As you know, I decided on taking my landau and coachman with me. It was very much handier when I wanted a drive. Then Madame Levasseur came to see us—”
“Yes, one Sunday,” interrupted that lady. “We were at Cabourg. Your establishment was perfect, but a little too dear, I think.”
“By the way,” broke in Madame Berthier, addressing Juliette, “didn’t Monsieur Malignon give you lessons in swimming?”
Hélène noticed a shadow of vexation, of sudden annoyance, pass over Madame Deberle’s face. Several times already she had fancied that, on Malignon’s name being brought unexpectedly into the conversation, Madame Deberle suddenly seemed perturbed. However, the young woman immediately regained her equanimity.
“A fine swimmer, indeed!” she exclaimed. “The idea of him ever giving lessons to any one! For my part, I have a mortal fear of cold water—the very sight of people bathing curdles my blood.”
She gave an eloquent shiver, with a shrug of her plump shoulders, as though she were a duck shaking water from her back.
“Then it’s a fable?” questioned Madame de Guiraud.
“Of course; and one, I presume, of his own invention. He detests me since he spent a month with us down there.”