She paced the huge vestibule, sounding her heels on the tiles for the sake of hearing the echo. Ten minutes passed; she was freezing with cold. She was going to ask Pageot when M. Raindal came forth from the shadows, his portfolio under his arm.
He repressed an angry gesture and assumed a smile as he advanced towards her.
“What! you here, dear madame!” he exclaimed hypocritically.
“Did you not recognize me? I heard your lecture.... I did not understand everything, but it was very interesting!”
M. Raindal sought an excuse in his poor eyesight and asked more anxiously:
“Well, my dear lady, what can I do for you? What is it you wish? To what fortunate hazard do I owe your presence here?”
Fortunate hazard! No, not at all fortunate. Yet, she could not reply: “Gerald has once more played me one of his tricks and put me and my caresses off for two hours.... That is why, having nothing to do, and out of sheer boredom, I came here to see what one of your lectures was like, and perhaps, also, to arrange a little dinner party!” What she said was this, accompanied by a child-like smile:
“No hazard at all, dear master!... I wanted to hear you, that is all.... When it was over, I waited for you, so as to shake your hand....”
“You are too kind, a thousand times ... really!...” M. Raindal murmured distractedly.
He darted frightened glances to right and left as they walked out. When they reached the street, and he saw Mme. Chambannes’ own carriage waiting, he was unable to dominate a desire to run away. He took off his hat.