“Madame has ordered me not to receive anybody.”
“I will permit you now.”
“Madame is very kind.”
“Soldiers are always honest fellows,” added the cantatrice, as a reason for making the concession.
“Madame may be sure that he comes with the best motives.”
“That is a matter of indifference to me. Get breakfast immediately, and without noise.”
Adéonne returned to her boudoir, and applied herself to arranging her somewhat disordered tresses. When she had succeeded in giving them the desired contour, she remained pensive, her face supported by her fair hand. Two or three times she arose as if to go to her chamber. Once her delicate fingers even touched the door-knob; but she returned and seated herself again, as though she could not decide how to proceed. A slight rustle caused her to start. She listened attentively. Her bosom heaved with sudden agitation, and a deadly pallor spread over her countenance. Eusebe partially opened the door, and, upon perceiving Adéonne, remained motionless.
“I thought I had been dreaming,” said the provincial.
Adéonne threw herself upon his neck, and held him long in her embrace.
“Come, tell me that you love me, my dear Eusebe,” she murmured, leading him to the divan; “or, no——tell me nothing. Let me look at you. Yes: it is, indeed, you. How handsome you are! Say that you will love me always!”