Disconcerted, Madame Guibert turned as if to go out, whispering to Paule, “Let us go to the third class waiting-room. It will be pleasanter there.”
“Why?” asked the girl.
At that moment a good-looking young man detached himself from a group of women and came towards them. They recognised Lieutenant Jean Berlier, a friend of Marcel. He bowed to them with a courtesy which expressed his deep sympathy.
“You have come to meet the Captain, haven’t you, Madame? I know you don’t like travelling.”
“Oh, no, I don’t.”
“How pleased he will be to see you; he will soon be here!”
“In the past,” said the old lady to the young man, whom she had known as a boy, “his father used to meet him. You will understand.”
“Yes, I know,” said Jean Berlier, and in order not to dwell on so painful a subject in a public place he added:
“I shall be able to shake Marcel by the hand before I start.”
“You will come and see him at our house, won’t you? Are you going away?”