“What do you call it?” exclaimed Lavinia. “The little red house?”
“Yes, we call it so,” said Monsieur Carimon. “Emile Sauvage was talking of it to me the other evening at the café, saying they would be glad to have it tenanted.”
“I fear our good friends here would find it dull,” remarked Madame Carimon to him. “It is in so gloomy a situation, you know, Jules.”
“Mon amie, I do not myself see how that signifies,” said he in reply. “If your house is comfortable inside, does it matter what it looks out upon?”
“Very true,” assented Miss Lavinia, whose hopes had gone up again. “But this house may not be furnished, Mary.”
“It is partly furnished,” said Madame Carimon. “When the old lady who was last in it died, they had to take her furniture for the rent. It was not much, I have heard.”
“We should not want much, only two of us,” cried Miss Ann eagerly. “Do let us go to look at it to-morrow!”
On the following day, Friday, the Miss Preens went to the Place Ronde, piloted by Mary Carimon. They were struck with admiration at the Maison Rouge, all a fiery glow in the morning sun, and a novelty to English eyes. Whilst Madame Carimon went into the shop to explain and ask for the key, the sisters gazed in at the windows. Lying on the wine-bottles was a small black board on which was written in white letters, “Petite Maison à louer.”
Monsieur Gustave Sauvage, key in hand, saluted the ladies in English, which he spoke fairly well, and accompanied them to view the house. The sun was very bright that day, and the confined yard did not look so dull as at a less favourable time; and perhaps the brilliant red of the little house, at which Nancy laughed, imparted a cheerfulness to it. Monsieur Gustave opened the door with a latch-key, drew back, and waited for them to enter.