It is to be supposed that the staff of angelic recorders have a separate set of ledgers for French people, with special discounts attaching to pleasant lies.
Madame shook her head—and believed.
“M. Steinmetz is even now taking off his furs in the hall,” said Cilestine, retiring toward the door.
“It is well. We shall want tea.”
Steinmetz came into the room with an exaggerated bow and a twinkle in his melancholy eyes.
“Figure to yourself, my dear Steinmetz,” said the countess vivaciously. “Catrina has gone out—on a day like this! Mon Dieu! How gray, how melancholy!”
“Without, yes! But here, how different!” replied Steinmetz in French.
The countess cackled and pointed to a chair.
“Ah! you always flatter. What news have you, bad character?”
Steinmetz smiled pensively, not so much suggesting the desire to impart as the intention to withhold that which the lady called news.