Marcel was strongly tempted to order the coachman to return to Paris without his uncle's knowledge; but would the man have obeyed? Moreover, as Julien was out of the way, would it not be well to find out how Monsieur Antoine proposed to act with regard to Madame Thierry? He stood greatly in awe of her. Would he dare to tell her to her face that he proposed to take back his gifts?
Sleep restored Monsieur Antoine to himself—that is to say to his chronic state of deliberate aversion, jealous self-love, and brooding resentment. They found Madame Thierry in front of a fine portrait of her husband, at which she was gazing earnestly as if seeking in the cheering serenity of that refined face the confidence in the future which had always sustained that fascinating man's happy temperament. Marcel had just time to hurry into the room first and say to her hastily:
"Monsieur Antoine is at my heels; he is in a rage. You can save everything by much patience and firmness."
"Mon Dieu! what shall I say to him?"
"That you give back what he has given you, but that you thank him for it. Julie adores Julien. Everything depends on uncle. Here he is!"
"Will you leave me alone with him?"
"Yes, he insists upon it; but I will be close at hand, ready to interfere if necessary."
Marcel walked quickly into an adjoining cabinet, threw himself into a chair and waited. Monsieur Antoine entered Madame Thierry's salon by the other door. He was less timid when he did not feel Marcel's searching eye fixed upon him.
"Your servant, Madame André," he said on entering. "Are you alone?"
Madame Thierry rose, answered affirmatively, and courteously waved him to a chair.