When he entered Paris, he was still uncertain as to what he should do. At last he decided not to mention the encounter to his wife and his mother-in-law, thinking that it would be time enough to introduce them to his brother when he should call. When he arrived, his Adeline ran to meet him, scolded him fondly because he had been away so long, and asked him about his journey.
“It is all finished,” said Edouard; “the deeds are passed and the pretty house is ours now.”
“And you had no unpleasant meetings?” asked Adeline with a smile.
“I—no—as you see.”
“And you did not see that terrible face with the moustaches again?” asked Madame Germeuil.
“No, I did not see him again.”
“I am glad of it, for that man really looked like the leader of a band of robbers, and for my part I have no sort of desire to see him again, I assure you.”
Edouard blushed; his brother had the appearance of a highwayman! That thought troubled him; he believed that they would guess his secret, and he dared not raise his eyes. But his wife’s caresses dispelled his disquietude to some extent.
“What on earth is the matter, my dear?” asked Adeline; “you seem very pensive and preoccupied to-night.”
“Nothing is the matter, my dear love; the bore of being away from you so long has been my only unhappiness.”