'What were you doing last night?' she then asked of the great man, as she saw him yawning behind his fingers.
'I was working very late,' he said. 'There were a lot of tiresome things to see to.'
There was another pause, and Clorinde began to study Rougon. He yielded unresistingly to the slight jolting of the carriage. His frock-coat was strained out of shape by his broad shoulders, and his hat was badly brushed, and bore marks of old rain stains. He reminded Clorinde of a jobber from whom she had bought a horse a month previously, and a smile, with which was mingled a touch of contempt, appeared upon her lips.
'Well?' said Rougon, at last, feeling somewhat annoyed by Clorinde's prolonged scrutiny.
'Well,' she replied, 'I'm looking at you. It isn't forbidden to do so, is it? You're not afraid that I shall eat you, are you?'
She spoke these last words with a provoking air, showing her white teeth. Rougon, however, began to joke. 'I'm too big for that,' he said; 'you wouldn't be able to get me down.'
'Oh, I don't know that, if I were very hungry,' she gravely answered, after apparently considering her appetite.
The landau was now reaching the Porte de la Muette. Here, on emerging from the narrow streets of the Chaillot district, the horizon suddenly spread out over the light verdure of the Bois de Boulogne. It was a lovely morning, and the distant turf was steeped in golden light, while the young leaves on the trees rustled gently in the warm air. They left the deer-park on their right, and took the gravelled avenue leading to Saint Cloud. The landau now rolled on without a jolt, as lightly and softly as a sledge gliding through the snow.
'How nasty those streets were!' said Clorinde, as she lolled back. 'Well, we can breathe here, and talk. Have you any news of our friend Du Poizat?'
'Yes, he's very well,' Rougon replied.