Robeccal showed her a card on which was written the girl's address and that of the armless singer.
Francine's hesitation vanished—she accepted the proposition.
"I will go," she said, "and at what hour?"
"At eight o'clock, sharp," Robeccal replied.
"And how long shall I be wanted?"
A wicked light came into the man's eyes.
"I don't know exactly—until ten or eleven, I suppose."
"But I must be home before midnight."
"Oh! of course; and if you are afraid to come alone, I am at your service. And now, good-bye."