M. Raindal blinked under the tender glance which pervaded him. He had grown unaccustomed to it.
“Not at all, dear lady!...” he stammered. “Above all things I am delighted to see you again.... Is M. Chambannes well?”
“Quite.... He came back last night.... By the way, he asked me to invite you to the opera to-night.... They are giving “Samson and Delilah” and “The Korringane.” We have a box on the second tier.... You will come, wo you?”
“Oh! Madame....”
“Yes, yes, you will come.... I want you to!” She looked about her inquiringly and noticed the plate with big gold letters over the peristyle:
“It is here, is it?”
“Alas! i impossible to-day, dear Madame!...” the master exclaimed, and Zozé assumed an expression of displeasure.
“For the one time that free, how vexing!... What shall we do, then?”
“I do know, Madame!... Whatever you like!”
Distractedly he glanced at the circular little open spaces where the leaves of the trees rustled in the breeze. One could not see inside them. The very access to them seemed forbidden by the thick foliage pressed against the gates. They were like two gallant theatrical property gardens, put there by mistake or merely temporarily. The master thought, “This would be perfect!” And he pointed to the nearer of these little gardens.