He turned.
The face that met his was so changed with excitement and distress that for an instant he did not recognize it.
"Why, Madame Delphine"—
"Oh, Père Jerome! I wan' see you so bad, so bad! Mo oulé dit quiç'ose,—I godd some' to tell you."
The two languages might be more successful than one, she seemed to think.
"We had better go back to my parlor," said the priest, in their native tongue.
They returned
Madame Delphine's very step was altered,—nervous and inelastic. She swung one arm as she walked, and brandished a turkey-tail fan.
"I was glad, yass, to kedge you," she said, as they mounted the front, outdoor stair; following her speech with a slight, unmusical laugh, and fanning herself with unconscious fury.
"Fé chaud," she remarked again, taking the chair he offered and continuing to ply the fan.