“Is his office far from here?” I enquired.
“The town is about nine or ten miles distant.”
“I shall go there and sign the papers at once.”
“Think it over a little longer,” he said.
“I never reflect,” I replied, “and besides have I not eaten your gratin?”
“It will prove expensive,” replied my host with a laugh.
While my chauffeur was cranking his machine, I observed on M. Mairieux’s face a pre-occupied, anxious expression as if he had something to say which embarrassed him. He did not make up his mind to put it into words until just as we were leaving.
“No doubt,” he stammered timidly, “you will replace the superintendent.”
“What superintendent? You? Never in the world. On the contrary, I shall buy the property only on condition that you remain. Your cook will give her recipes to my chef.”
The cook, who had come out from the lodge in order to watch me get under way, blushed to the roots of her hair with satisfaction, before hiding behind the Mairieux family which had gathered to say good-bye. We exchanged resounding farewells. The little girl alone did not open her mouth.