“Oh, if that is all, I assure you, madame, that you may console yourself. He has his eccentricities, and one is a dislike to being taken seriously in private. As to his youth, certainly he is young for his position, though older than he looks. But that is only a proof of his amazing talents. No, no, madame, you may be perfectly at your ease as to Maître Barraud. If any one can right this unhappy business, he is the man. Shall we start?”
The poor wife scarcely knew how the interval between leaving the hotel and arriving at the Palais de Justice was passed. She had a confused impression of streets, of walls, of eyes which she felt to be full of curiosity, however much reason assured her that there was nothing in the carriage to attract attention. Like a sleep-walker, she got out of the carriage when it stopped, and followed M. Rodoin along passages and up stairs which to him were long familiar. She noticed nothing; when he stopped, she stopped; when he went on, she followed. Details were lost upon her, and the first thing which seemed to bring back her benumbed senses was the finding herself in her husband’s arms.
That roused her, and she had a momentary rapture before she flung back her head to let her eyes devour his face. It was white, and, in spite of its roundness, haggard, but not more so than when she left him. She had lost the proportion of the past days, and her feeling was that they had been parted for weeks.
“How do they treat you?” she whispered, glancing round. “Not so badly.” He tried to speak cheerfully. “Beyond having to put up with a lot of questions intended to make me own myself a rascal, I have not much to complain of. Have you written home!”
“This morning.”
“And so have I; but with the conviction that one’s letters are read, it is not possible to be very effusive.”
“And, oh, Léon, Maître Barraud!”
“What of him?” He spoke quickly, and M. Rodoin, who had kept discreetly in the background, advanced, smiling.
“Madame would be more happy if she could have your assurances, monsieur le baron, that he is really an eminent man. His appearance affronts her.”
“He is so ridiculously young!” persisted Nathalie.