When he had taken his coffee, she asked:
“Do you smoke?”
“Yes—I have my pipe.”
He felt in his pocket. Good God! He had forgotten it! He was becoming quite woe-begone about it when she offered him a pipe of his father's that had been shut up in a cupboard. He accepted it, took it up in his hand, recognized it, smelled it, spoke of its quality in a tone of emotion, filled it with tobacco, and lighted it. Then he set Emile astride on his knee, and made him play the cavalier, while she removed the tablecloth and put the soiled plates at one end of the sideboard in order to wash them as soon as he was gone.
About three o'clock, he rose up with regret, quite annoyed at the thought of having to go.
“Well! Mademoiselle Donet,” he said, “I wish you good evening, and am delighted to have found you like this.”
She remained standing before him, blushing, much affected, and gazed at him while she thought of the other.
“Shall we not see one another again?” she said.
He replied simply:
“Why, yes, Mam'zelle, if it gives you pleasure.”