"And who is to take supper with us, uncle?"
"Why, dear Denise?" answered Marcel smiling. "Who? One of our best friends. Guess, if you can."
"Simon the Feather-dealer?... Peter Caillet?... Master Delille?... Philip Giffart?... John Goddard?... Josserand?... John Sorel?..."
"No, Denise. Look not for our guest among my friends of the council. He is not yet old enough to figure in such serious functions. But, so as to help you guess, I shall add that our guest for this evening has just arrived from the country."
"Can it be my old cousin who lives with his daughter at Vaucouleurs? Can he have left the quiet valley of the Meuse to come and see us?"
"No, dear Denise. The friend whom we expect has been away from Paris only a short time. Cudgel your memory."
"A short time?" Denise repeated mechanically, and struck by a sudden thought but hardly daring to indulge it, the poor child grew pale, joined her two trembling hands, and fixing upon her uncle a look at once full of anxiety and hope, she stammered: "Uncle, what is it you say? Can it be?..."
"I shall add that the fate of that friend has recently made us feel uneasy."
"It is he!" cried Denise throwing herself at Marcel's neck. "Can it be?... Jocelyn is back ... God be praised!"
"Jocelyn!" exclaimed Marguerite joining in the surprise and joy of Denise. "Have you seen him? Is he in Paris?"