They found him walking up and down. And he looked to them so comical in his queer costume that they had a difficulty in suppressing their inclination to laugh. With a pensive air and a bent back, he walked, like an automaton, from the window to the door and the door to the window, taking each time the same number of steps and turning each time in the same direction.
He stopped, took up a knick-knack, examined it mechanically and then resumed his walk.
At last, planting himself in front of them, he asked:
"Is mademoiselle here?"
"Yes, in the garden, with the children."
"Monsieur le baron, as this will be our final conversation, I should like Mlle. Demun to be present at it."
"So you decidedly...?"
"Have a little patience, monsieur. The truth will emerge plainly from the facts which I propose to lay before you with the greatest possible precision."
"Very well. Suzanne, do you mind...?"
Mme. d'Imblevalle rose and returned almost at once, accompanied by Alice Demun. Mademoiselle, looking a little paler than usual, remained standing, leaning against a table and without even asking to know why she had been sent for.