“Converted! A triumph!” she cried, merrily. “There is a charming toilette in that carriage, but if I were to wear it I should have the effect of a dancing monkey. But how brilliant it all is! How delightful!” She paused a moment. “The real enchantment is that you and I should be together and alone, and do you know that if it were not that you allow yourself to be vexed, I should be almost grateful to this Monsieur Lemaire for giving me such delightful days.”
He turned his head away, and the grip of his hand on the carriage door tightened.
“Don’t let us talk of the rascal any more!” he cried. “Look, there is the President’s carriage. What a pity Félicie is not here to turn her back! And there is the Marquise de Saurigny, in white and green. She sees you, and you are sure to have a card for her reception. Directly it is known we are in Paris, there will be invitations, although all the world is by the sea. Will you go?”
“If you like.”
“You are not frightened?”
“Why should I be?”
He smiled. The answer pleased him. Against his mother he had always maintained that Nathalie would take her place in the great world without awkwardness or mauvaise honte. For the moment he forgot the sword which hung over him; he enjoyed the exhilaration, the gaiety, the lightness of the air, and his wife smiled to herself to see his spirits rise.
“To think that you should have known none of this, little bourgeoise!” he said, jestingly. “I must take you somewhere to-night. Where shall we go? To the theatre?”
“Charming!”
Then, looking at him, she saw his face suddenly change, whiten. She turned quickly; a victoria had just passed, but she was too late to catch a glimpse of its occupant.