Dinner was announced, but the young lady did not appear.
"I must go and see what is the matter," said Madame Villebois, as she hurried upstairs to Renée's room. She found the door locked. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked Marie.
"Please, madame, my mistress has a dreadful headache, and has given orders that no one is to be allowed to see her."
Madame ran down to her husband with a terrible story that she was dying, and advised a consultation of eminent specialists, and suggested bursting the door open.
"Leave her alone, my dear. Something has evidently upset her, she will have brain fever if you go and frighten her like that."
"You're a cruel, ungrateful man, Adolphe, that's the plain truth. I never heard of anyone with so little feeling as you show, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. To think of the poor lamb being neglected in this way. I call it perfectly disgraceful. You men are all a set of heartless creatures."
"Tut, tut, my dear. Let her have a good cry, there's nothing like it. She will soon get over it, and to-morrow she will be all right," and taking his wife by the arm, he led her off to dinner.
Renée woke up in the morning with a splitting headache, but feeling better towards evening, she rose and dressed, and after removing the traces of her crying, walked downstairs into the parlour.
The room was empty, and going to the piano the girl sat down in a dazed condition and attempted to play. But her heart was too sad, and Renée mechanically passed her hands over the keys, hardly conscious of what she was playing.
Renée was about to close the lid of the instrument, when she became aware of someone near her, and looking round saw Delapine who had just returned from the university, and had silently entered the room for his evening cup of coffee.