The other ladies, however, were now going off.
“Good-bye, dear madame. I rely upon you for Wednesday.”
“Yes, to be sure; Wednesday.”
“Oh, by the way, will you be at that evening party? One doesn’t know whom one may meet. If you go, I’ll go.”
“Ah, well! I’ll go, I promise you. Give my best regards to Monsieur de Guiraud.”
When Madame Deberle returned she found Hélène standing in the middle of the drawing-room. Jeanne had drawn close to her mother, whose hands she firmly grasped; and thus clinging to her caressingly and almost convulsively, she was drawing her little by little towards the doorway.
“Ah, I was forgetting!” exclaimed the lady of the house; and ringing the bell for the servant, she said to him: “Pierre, tell Miss Smithson to bring Lucien here.”
During the short interval of waiting that ensued the door was again opened, but this time in a familiar fashion and without any formal announcement. A good-looking girl of some sixteen years of age entered in company with an old man, short of stature but with a rubicund, chubby face.
“Good-day, sister,” was the girl’s greeting, as she kissed Madame Deberle.
“Good-day, Pauline! good-day, father!” replied the doctor’s wife.