And he accompanied these last words with a sinister nipping of the lips, not perceived by Rose-Pompon.
“And now, my dear child,” said he, as they both entered the passage, “I no longer need you assistance; return to your friend, and tell her the good news you have heard.”
“Yes, sir, you are right. I burn with impatience to tell her what a good man you are.” And Rose-Pompon sprung towards the stairs.
“Stop, stop! how about my basket that the little madcap carries off with her?” said Rodin.
“Oh true! I beg your pardon, sir. Poor Cephyse! how pleased she will be. Adieu, sir!” And Rose-Pompon’s pretty figure disappeared in the darkness of the staircase, which she mounted with an alert and impatient step.
Rodin issued from the entry. “Here is your basket, my good lady,” said he, stopping at the threshold of Mother Arsene’s shop. “I give you my humble thanks for your kindness.”
“For nothing, my dear sir, for nothing. It is all at your service. Well, was the radish good?”
“Succulent, my dear madame, and excellent.”
“Oh! I am glad of it. Shall we soon see you again?”
“I hope so. But could you tell me where is the nearest post-office?”