CHAPTER XII
MME. Chambannes had not been gone one hour when a cab stopped outside her house.
The two MM. Raindal stepped out. In order to avoid any insidious remark from his brother, the master had donned an old frock-coat. Uncle Cyprien, on the contrary, had dressed himself in his best clothes, a tail-coat, the tails of which still showed the folds which a long stay in the cupboard had given them, a pair of gray check trousers and red dogskin gloves. He was close-shaved and had replaced his thick cornel-wood stick with a thin rush cane with a gold handle and two brown silk tassels inherited from M. Raindal his father.
Firmin the butler opened the door for them; he was so surprised that he fell back a few steps. He was, moreover, dressed to go out, with a suit of English check and a felt hat.
“What! M. Raindal!” he exclaimed, as he removed his hat. “But madame is not here.... She left an hour ago for the Frettes ... and I am joining her to-morrow morning.... Did not madame warn monsieur?”
Uncle Cyprien was biting his mustache to suppress a laugh that he felt coming.
“No, madame said nothing to me,” M. Raindal kept on repeating jerkily.... “I extraordinary. I hope at least there is nothing serious?”
“I do think so, monsieur,” the man replied. “Madame made up her mind suddenly about 2 lock.... I ran out to Mme. Panhias and she came at once to help madame pack.... They left with Anna, the maid, as I told you, not an hour ago. Should monsieur wish to write a note I could give the letter to madame to-morrow morning....”
M. Raindal reflected. Such offhandedness left him dumfounded; and there came to his soul an ill-defined impression of anguish, of strange sorrow. At last he replied:
“No, thank you!... I shall write from home.... Where did you say madame went?”