The interne opened the window and pushed back the shutters through which there already came some golden rays.
With the fresh splendor of the morning brightness an outburst of chirping penetrated the room.
It was the sparrows of the Luxembourg which sang merrily on the branches, unwittingly chirping a last good-by to their old friend, Cyprien Raindal.
CHAPTER XIX
ON the morning of the burial, Thérèse was in her room, busy sorting papers they had found in her uncl room, when Brigitte knocked at the door.
“A lady, mademoiselle!” the maid said. “Mme. Chambannes, I think.”
A frown appeared on Mlle. Rainda velvety eyebrows.
“Did you tell her that monsieur and madame had gone out?”
“Yes, mademoiselle! But she said that she would like to see mademoiselle. She is in the drawing-room.”
“Very well, l go!” Thérèse replied.