"Yes, perfectly, thank you." Then changing his tone, "How lucky that I should have come across you, old fellow. I hope we shall see each other often now."
But I would not give up my idea; I wanted to know how matters really stood, so I asked:
"Don't you remember what you told me six months ago? I suppose—I—eh—suppose you resist now?"
"Please don't talk any more about it," he replied, uneasily; "forget that I mentioned it to you; leave me alone. But, you know, I have no intention of letting you go; you must come and dine at my house."
A sudden fancy took me to see for myself how matters stood, so that I might understand all about it, and I accepted. Two hours later he introduced me to his home.
His wife received me in a most charming manner, and she was, as a matter of fact, a most attractive woman. She looked guileless, distinguished and adorably naïve. Her long hands, her neck, and cheeks were beautifully white and delicate, and marked her breeding, and her walk was undulating and delightful, as if her leg gave slightly at each step.
René gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead and said:
"Has not Lucien come yet?"
"Not yet," she replied, in a clear, soft voice; "you know he is almost always rather late."
At that moment the bell rang, and a tall man was shown in. He was dark, with a thick beard, and looked like a society Hercules. We were introduced to each other; his name was Lucien Delabarre.