All night the viscount was haunted by the image of the girl who had refused his splendid gifts. He rose early, attempted to smoke, and threw away several cigarettes as soon as he lighted them. The things he had sent to Georgette, he ordered taken into the small salon; and as he gazed at the rich fabrics spread out on a couch, he said to himself:
"Perhaps she doesn't like these colors! But the shawl is lovely! No, that cannot be her reason. Can it be that she really means to remain virtuous? But there was that dream of hers, in which she imagined that she was very rich. The little minx has something in her head, and she will have to tell me what it is."
At last, about noon, Mademoiselle Georgette arrived. Lépinette ushered her at once into the small salon, where the viscount was impatiently awaiting her. She bowed to him, with a charming smile; while he, on the contrary, pretended to be sulky. He pointed to a chair, saying:
"Be seated, mademoiselle."
"Your cigar cases are finished, monsieur; here they are."
"Very well! but I am not thinking about them."
"Your servant told me that you wanted them."
"My servant is an ass!—However, you are well aware that the cigar cases are only a pretext for seeing you. What is the use of beating about the bush, when one can speak frankly?"
"Why, no, monsieur, I didn't know——"
Edward pointed to the objects spread out on the couch, and asked abruptly: