If only she could make up her mind! If she would accept that young man!... No, that would be too fine!... And yet, who knew!... The ebb and flow of contradictory thoughts caused M. Rainda lips to stretch in softened smiles or to purse in bitter grimaces.
Then his colleagues approached and began to congratulate him upon his new book. More of them joined the first ones. A small, applauding group surrounded M. Raindal and hid his daughter from his sight. The last comers tipped their heads to one side, straining their ears to catch the maste replies. “You are very good....” “I am ashamed, really....” “Be sure that on my side....” The complimenters vied with each other in outbidding and protested their sincerity in extravagant praise.
At length the enthusiasm came to an end. They became silent and listened to M. Raindal, who was recalling memories of his youth and the misery of his early efforts.
Suddenly the purring voice of Saulvard caused the ranks of the audience to open.
“Pardon, Gentlemen! Pardon!”
With one hand bent like the prow of a boat, he was making a path for a dark-haired young woman who hung on his arm; he came to a stop near M. Raindal.
“My dear friend.... Will you help me satisfy the wishes of one of your lady admirers who is longing to make your acquaintance?... M. Eusèbe Raindal ... Mme. Georges Chambannes....”
M. Raindal rose and bowed, one hand resting on the back of his chair.
“Madame, I am delighted....”
Mme. Chambannes protested.