Martha had, in fact, closely followed the scene with half-shut eyes, and said to herself, "Good gracious! what is he telling mamma? She is obliged to hold on to the arms of her seat to keep herself from jumping up."
"Yes, madam, in my arms; by the greatest, by the most fortunate of accidents, we stumbled over each other on one of the platforms of the train. And since I have seen her, not in the false light of a theatre or a gallery, but in the full glare of sunlight. I have seen her at lunch, munching nuts with the prettiest teeth there are in the world; I have seen her, just now, in the moonlight; and I know that she skates, and I know that she swims, and I know she would like to have a pearl-gray coupé, and she ought to have it. And now I admire her in the semi-obscurity. Ravishing! isn't she ravishing?"
"Sir, never has a mother found herself—"
"In such a situation? I acknowledge it, madam, and for that very reason you must get out of the situation quickly; it's evident that it can't be prolonged."
"That's true—"
"Here is what I propose to you. You go to the Hôtel de Noailles; I, too, naturally. You have all the morning to-morrow to talk to Mlle. Martha, and the telephone to talk through to M. Derame. You know who I am. You have seen me, too, in the daylight. I have talked—talked a great deal. You could, you and Mlle. Martha, find out what I am, what I think. Well, to-morrow—what time do you expect to breakfast to-morrow?"
"But I don't know. I assure you that I am choking, upset, overcome."
"Let us settle on an hour all the same; eleven o'clock—will you, at eleven?"
"If you wish."
"Well, to-morrow at eleven o'clock I shall be in the dining-room of the hotel. If you say 'Go' I shall go; if you say 'Stay' I shall stay. Don't answer me; take time to reflect; it's worth while. Till to-morrow, madam, till to-morrow at eleven."