I paid fastidious attention to my toilet, for one dared not look anything but one's best at Madame de Voussêt's receptions, and Gaspard was such a frequent visitor.
Yet I never looked worse to my own mind, and all the satisfaction seemed to be with Thérèse.
"Mais oui! madame, c'est superb," she cried, with an exaggerated gesture of admiration; and although she possessed many faults, I never had to chide her for lack of truthfulness.
"Monsieur Roché, madame," she announced a moment later, and I said I would receive him in my boudoir, feeling gratified that he should not be lacking in the swift expression of his thanks.
Yet when I greeted him he seemed perplexed, and taking the packet I had sent him from his pocket, he read aloud my own note: "The enclosed letter from Monsieur Desormes will explain the theft of the paper, and prove the innocence of Gaspard, whom you so unjustly accused."
I nodded.
"Do you know the contents of Monsieur Desormes's letter, madame?"
"Partially. 'Because others who are innocent, monsieur, have been suspected, I am prepared to place in your possession the name of the man.' That is what Monsieur Desormes wrote."
Monsieur Roché gravely shook his head and handed the letter to me, and I took it with a chill at my heart, dreading that I had been deceived.
I opened the envelope and withdrew two sheets of paper—blank.