"Charles, we are saved, here is the non-suit of M. Pascal."
"Great God! can it be true?" cried Dutertre, looking over the paper his wife had just delivered to him; then, raising his eyes, he beheld Sophie in her bewitching, coquettish toilet. After a short silence produced by surprise and admiration, he exclaimed:
"Sophie! what do I see? This toilet so charming, so new! Is it to celebrate our day of deliverance?"
"Charles," replied Sophie, smiling and blushing by turns, "this toilet is not new; some years ago, if you remember, you admired me in it."
"If I remember!" cried Dutertre, feeling a thousand tender memories awaken in his mind. "Ah, it was the beautiful time of our ardent love, and this happy time is born again, it exists. I see you again as in the past; your beauty shines in my eyes with a new brilliancy. I do not know what this enchantment is; but this elegance, this grace, this coquetry, your blushes and the sweet perfume of the iris we used to love so much,—all transport me and intoxicate me! Never, no, never, have I seen you more beautiful!" added Dutertre, in a passionate voice, as he kissed Sophie's little hands. "Oh, yes, it is you, it is you, I have found you again, adored mistress of my first love!"
"Now, little girl, I think it is altogether proper that we should retire," whispered Madeleine to Antonine, unable to keep from laughing.
And both, stealing away on tiptoe, left the parlour, the door of which the marquise discreetly closed, and went into the study of M. Dutertre, which opened into the garden.
"Just now, Madeleine," said Antonine to the marquise, "you did not let me finish what I came to tell you."
"Very well, speak, my child."
"Count Frantz is here."