Maze hesitated, embarrassed and smiling at the remembrance of past events.
Cachelin urged him: "Come, say we may expect you!"
"Very well, then, I accept."
Cachelin said on entering the house: "Cora, do you know that M. Maze is coming here to dinner next Sunday?"
Cora, surprised at first, stammered: "M. Maze? Really!" She blushed up to her hair without knowing why. She had so often heard him spoken of, his manners, his successes, for he was looked upon at the office as a man who was irresistible with women, that she had long felt a desire to know him.
Cachelin continued rubbing his hands: "You will see that he is a real man, and a fine fellow. He is as tall as a carbineer; he does not resemble your husband there."
She did not reply, confused as if they had divined her dreams of him.
They prepared this dinner with as much solicitude as the one to which Lesable had been formerly invited. Cachelin discussed the dishes, wishing to have everything served in perfection; and as though a confidence unavowed and still undetermined had risen up in his heart, he seemed more gay, tranquilised by some secret and sure prevision.
Through all that Sunday he watched the preparations with the utmost solicitude, while Lesable was doing some urgent work, brought the evening before from the office.
It was the first week of November, and the new year was at hand.