"Certainly, my dear; I will permit anything you wish."
A shade of irony lurked beneath those words, uttered so pleasantly.
Mme. Walter mentioned a fencing-match to be given at Jacques Rival's apartments, the proceeds to be devoted to charities, and in which many society ladies were going to assist. She said: "It will be very entertaining; but I am in despair, for we have no one to escort us, my husband having an engagement."
Du Roy offered his services at once. She accepted, saying: "My daughters and I shall be very grateful."
He glanced at the younger of the two girls and thought: "Little Suzanne is not at all bad, not at all."
She resembled a doll, being very small and dainty, with a well-proportioned form, a pretty, delicate face, blue-gray eyes, a fair skin, and curly, flaxen hair. Her elder sister, Rose, was plain—one of those girls to whom no attention is ever paid. Her mother rose, and turning to Georges, said: "I shall count on you next Thursday at two o'clock."
He replied: "Count upon me, Madame."
When the door closed upon Mme. Walter, Mme. de Marelle, in her turn, rose.
"Au revoir, Bel-Ami."
This time she pressed his hand and he was moved by that silent avowal. "I will go to see her to-morrow," thought he.