And taking the letter which Antonine had just given her, Sophie read, with an emotion which increased with every line.
"Dear Madeleine, always tender and affectionate, always witty and bright, always so appreciative of any remembrance of the past. After a few days' rest at Marseilles, where she has arrived from Venice, she comes to Paris, almost at the same time her letter arrives, and she thinks only of the happiness of seeing Sophie, her friend, and her little girl Antonine, and she writes in haste to both of us, and signs herself as of old, St. Madeleine."
"Then she is not married?" asked Charles Dutertre.
"I do not know, my dear," replied his wife, "she signs only her baptismal name."
"But why should I ask such an absurd question?—think of a married saint!"
At that moment the servant entered, and, stopping on the threshold of the door, made a significant sign to her mistress, who replied:
"You can speak, Julie, Mlle. Antonine is a part of the family."
"Madame," said the servant, "Agatha wants to know if she must put the chicken on the spit if M. Pascal does not come?"
"Certainly," said Madame Dutertre, "M. Pascal is a little late, but we expect him every minute."
"You are expecting some one, then, Sophie?" asked Antonine, when the servant retired. "Well, good-bye, I will see you again," added the young girl, with a sigh. "I did not come only to bring St. Madeleine's letter, I wanted to have a long chat with you. I will see you again to-morrow, dear Sophie."