“I expected to find Baron Hartmann here.”
Henriette turned pale. No doubt she knew he came to her house solely to meet the baron; but he might have avoided throwing his indifference in her face like this. At that moment the door had opened and the footman was standing behind her. When she had interrogated him by a sign, he leant over her and said in a very low tone:
“It's for that mantle. You wished me to let you know. The young lady is there.”
Then Henriette raised her voice, so as to be heard. All her jealous suffering found relief in the following words, of a scornful harshness:
“She can wait!”
“Shall I show her into your dressing-room?”
“No, no. Let her stay in the ante-room!”
And when the servant had gone out she quietly resumed her conversation with De Vallagnosc. Mouret, who had relapsed into his former lassitude, had listened with a careless, distracted air, without understanding. Bouthemont, preoccupied by the adventure, was reflecting. But almost immediately after the door was opened again, and two ladies were shown in.
“Just fancy,” said Madame Marty, “I was alighting at the door, when I saw Madame de Boves coming under the arcade.”
“Yes,” explained the latter, “it's a fine day, and my doctor says I must take walking exercise.”