It so chanced that at the time Madeleine's future status was under consideration, I was able to visit Lyons, so I had at last an opportunity of seeing my friend's protégée. It had been arranged that I should meet her at the hospital in the Économe's Office, and I was not a little anxious to see what she would be like. In the office I found Monsieur Tamiasse, a small man, seated at a disproportionately large table. I was struck, too, by the size of the fine old room, and somewhat overawed by its contents.
There was an air of systematic order and bureaucratic rule about it that did not fail to impress a frail Bohemian like myself; there were many books, boxes, and cases about, labelled, ticketed, and docketed, and I felt sure I was going to be placed in safe custody somewhere in a pigeon-hole, neatly linked to Claude, Madeleine, and the doctors. But Monsieur Tamiasse soon put me at my ease. He was a bright, genial little man, a first-class Économe, wearing a second-class wig, and probably in receipt of a third-class salary. I was Monsieur Dupont's ambassador and plenipotentiary, and as such I was received with a warm welcome, and officially thanked for all that had been done for Madeleine. I could but return the compliment, for Monsieur Tamiasse had quite constituted himself her guardian, and had proved himself a most practical and useful friend, ever ready to smooth any little difficulties that came in her way. We soon got to the object of my visit, and talked over the next step to take in Madeleine's interest.
An extensive business in ecclesiastical embroideries is carried on in Lyons, and it had been suggested that she should enter an atelier de broderie. Claude had already expressed his approval, so nothing remained but to find a suitable opening for her. An excellent lady, who was at the head of such an atelier, was a personal friend of the Économe's, and so all could be soon satisfactorily settled.
When our little consultation was at an end, Madeleine was called in. I was rather formally introduced to her, and to the Sister of Mercy who accompanied her; the latter one of those excellent S[oe]urs de Charité who devote their lives to the tending of the sick and helpless.
"You have been Madeleine's ministering angel, ma s[oe]ur," I said—"I am sure we are deeply grateful to you. N'est ce pas, mademoiselle?" I added, turning to Madeleine.
"Ah oui, monsieur," she answered.
"And you are the good fairy who taught her to read and write," I went on, "and there again, I am sure we are very grateful to you. N'est ce pas, mademoiselle?"
"Ah oui, monsieur," she once more answered.
She was decidedly shy, and only raised her eyes for a moment, by way of seeing those three words safe on their way.
The eyes were the amethyst eyes of the picture. I had at once recognised those, but in all else I found Madeleine quite different to what I had expected. In fact, at this, our first meeting, I was rather disappointed. Instead of the delicate poetical creature I had always fancied her, I found a strong and hearty girl, with fresh red lips and rather sunburnt cheeks, but without a suspicion of Biblical halo encircling the several coils of brown hair that were loosely wound around her head.