“Rosalie,” said Hélène, “make haste and finish the room. Don’t go out. I’ll be back in a moment.”
She stooped and gave Jeanne a hasty kiss, not noticing her vexation. But the moment she had gone a sob broke from the child, who had hitherto summoned all her dignity to her aid to restrain her emotion.
“Oh, mademoiselle, how naughty!” exclaimed the maid by way of consolation. “Gracious powers! no one will rob you of your mamma. You must allow her to see after her affairs. You can’t always be hanging to her skirts!”
Meanwhile Hélène had turned the corner of the Rue Vineuse, keeping close to the wall for protection against the rain. It was Pierre who opened the door; but at sight of her he seemed somewhat embarrassed.
“Is Madame Deberle at home?”
“Yes, madame; but I don’t know whether—”
Hélène, in the character of a family friend, was pushing past him towards the drawing-room; but he took the liberty of stopping her.
“Wait, madame; I’ll go and see.”
He slipped into the room, opening the door as little as he could; and immediately afterwards Juliette could be heard speaking in a tone of irritation. “What! you’ve allowed some one to come in? Why, I forbade it peremptorily. It’s incredible!! I can’t be left quiet for an instant!”
Hélène, however, pushed open the door, strong in her resolve to do that which she imagined to be her duty.