“I beseech you,” Malignon was saying, “come the day after to-morrow. I shall wait for you till three o’clock.”
“Why cannot you talk seriously,” replied Madame Deberle, with a laugh. “What foolish things you say!”
But with greater determination he repeated: “I shall wait for you—the day after to-morrow.”
Then she hurriedly gave a whispered reply:
“Very well—the day after to-morrow.”
Malignon bowed and made his exit. Madame de Chermette followed in company with Madame Tissot. Juliette, in the best of spirits, walked with them into the hall, and said to the former of these ladies with her most amiable look:
“I shall call on you the day after to-morrow. I have a lot of calls to make that day.”
Hélène stood riveted to the floor, her face quite white. Pierre, in the meanwhile, had poured out the punch, and now handed the glass to her. She grasped it mechanically and carried it to Mademoiselle Aurelie, who was making an inroad on the preserved fruits.
“Oh, you are far too kind!” exclaimed the old maid. “I should have made a sign to Pierre. I’m sure it’s a shame not offering the punch to ladies. Why, when people are my age—”
She got no further, however, for she observed the ghastliness of Hélène’s face. “You surely are in pain! You must take a drop of punch!”