The painter colored deeply, for it was Carmen who spoke. Goutran had indeed behaved very strangely to her. He apologized in some confusion, his duties as host, his many interruptions, etc.
"I forgive you," answered Carmen, "on one condition."
"Any thing!"
"Oh! I shall only ask a trifle. Can you spare me a few moments?"
"Certainly."
"Then give me your arm, and take me out on the terrace."
"The terrace! How did you know that I had a terrace?" asked Goutran, astonished.
"Pray do not be uneasy. I never visited your studio in your absence. I heard Monsieur Laisangy say, just now, that he would go to the terrace for a little fresh air."
"Yes," said Goutran, "your father came one day to talk about your portrait, and I showed him the place which I dignify with the name of terrace. It is but a small square of zinc, on which a few sickly plants are withering. It was not worthy to be shown to my friends."
"But you will make an exception in my favor?"