Uncle Cyprien was coming nearer; his features became more distinct; he reached the carriage. As he passed, he gave the turn-out a contemptuous and yet mistrustful glance and walked up the alley. Unconsciously M. Raindal heaved a sigh of relief. He put his hand out to Mme. Chambannes.
“Good-by, dear madame.... I shall think about it; l let you know.”
Zozé pouted with disappointment.
“And I was in hopes you would give me your answer now!”
M. Raindal passed a hand over his eyes, to sweep a painful vision away—that of his brother who might be coming down again, meeting him as he came out of the carriage and thereby acquiring a pretext for interminable sarcasm.... The savant murmured hurriedly:
“Very well then, madame, very well.... I shall come this week....”
“How kind of you.... How about Thursday? Next Thursday at 5....”
“Yes, Thursday at 5 lock.”
“You do know how sweet you are.” She grasped his hand and looked at him with an expression of radiant gratefulness. But M. Rainda fingers were slipping out.
“Oh! excuse me!” she exclaimed.... “You are in a hurry.... Till Thursday, then, 5 lock!... I am counting on you, dear master....”