“Hey! hey!”
“Hi! hi!”
These dry little exclamations served as a laugh to the two old men, who took their way back (always on foot) to the Cafe Themis.
Des Lupeaulx returned to the salon and found Madame Rabourdin sailing with the wind of success, and very charming; while his Excellency, usually so gloomy, showed a smooth and gracious countenance.
“She performs miracles,” thought des Lupeaulx. “What a wonderfully clever woman! I must get to the bottom of her heart.”
“Your little lady is decidedly handsome,” said the Marquise to the secretary; “now if she only had your name.”
“Yes, her defect is that she is the daughter of an auctioneer. She will fail for want of birth,” replied des Lupeaulx, with a cold manner that contrasted strangely with the ardor of his remarks about Madame Rabourdin not half an hour earlier.
The marquise looked at him fixedly.
“The glance you gave them did not escape me,” she said, motioning towards the minister and Madame Rabourdin; “it pierced the mask of your spectacles. How amusing you both are, to quarrel over that bone!”
As the marquise turned to leave the room the minister joined her and escorted her to the door.