“Thanks! What do I owe you for that?”
But Baradier had no time to give way to his increasing irritation. The door of the salon opened, and Amélie appeared on the threshold.
“Mamma, Mademoiselle Lichtenbach would like to say good-bye to you before leaving.”
“She seems to be very well bred,” said Marcel, in low tones. “Are you going, mother? I will accompany you. I should like to see what she looks like.”
It was in vain that Baradier shouted to his son—
“Marcel, stay here; I forbid you!”
Already the young man, with a laugh, had slipped behind his mother into the salon.
“The young rascal will never have any common sense,” moaned Baradier. And he sat down in the seat his wife had just left, vaguely listening to the sound of voices, which now reached him.
At the very first glance Marcel Baradier noticed that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach was of a very elegant figure, with a countenance of great gentleness. On further examination he did not find her pretty. Her features were irregular, but her face was lit up by eyes of limpid blue, radiant with frankness and amiability. She was standing there, an upright and slender form, in her sombre school-dress, with the blue ribbon on her breast. On Madame Baradier introducing Marcel to her she made a respectful bow, and said in delightful accents—
“I could not take my leave, madame, without thanking you for your kind welcome. Mademoiselle de Trémont and myself are very fond of one another. For a year we have been close companions, and I sympathize with her present suffering, as though her loss were also mine. It is a great relief to me, now that we are obliged to separate, to know that she will be with one who loves her. I hope you will permit her to speak to you of me, so that she may not forget me too soon, and, perhaps, instil into your mind a little of the sympathy her heart feels for me.”