Rogier, rising, gives a significant side look, with a slight nod towards the window; then muttering a word of excuse saunters off out of the room.
She knows what it means, as where to follow and find him. Knows also how to disembarrass herself of such as he who remained behind. Were it upon a bench of the Bois, or an arbour in the Jardin, she would make short work of it. But the ex-cocotte is now at the head of an aristocratic establishment, and must act in accordance. Therefore she allows some time to elapse, listening to the speech of her latest admirer; some of it in compliments coarse enough to give offence to ears more sensitive than hers.
She at length gets rid of him, on the plea of having a headache, and going upstairs to get something for it. She will be down again by and by; and so bows herself out of the gentleman’s presence, leaving him in a state of fretful disappointment.
Once outside the room, instead of turning up the stair-way, she glides along the corridor; then on through the entrance-hall, and then out by the front door. Nor stays she an instant on the steps, or carriage sweep; but proceeds direct to the summer-house, where she expects to find the priest. For there have they more than once been together, conversing on matters of private and particular nature.
On reaching the place she is disappointed—some little surprised. Rogier is not there; nor can she see him anywhere around!
For all that, the gentleman is very near, without her knowing it—only a few paces off, lying flat upon his face among ferns, but so engrossed with thoughts, just then of an exciting nature, he neither hears her light footsteps, nor his own name pronounced. Not loudly though; since, while pronouncing it, she feared being heard by some other. Besides, she does not think it necessary; he will come yet, without calling.
She steps inside the pavilion, and there stands waiting. Still he does not come, nor sees she anything of him; only a boat on the river above, being rowed upwards. But without thought of its having anything to do with her or her affairs.
By this there is another boat in motion; for the priest has meanwhile forsaken his spying place upon the cliff, and proceeded down to the dock.
“Where can Gregoire have gone?” she asks herself, becoming more and more impatient.
Several times she puts the question without receiving answer; and is about starting on return to the house, when longer stayed by a rumbling noise which reaches her ears, coming up from the direction of the dock.