"No, monsieur; it ain't Mamzelle Rosette?"
"Is it Madame Dauberny, then?"
"No, monsieur; it's a person of our sex."
"Oh! how you annoy me, Pomponne! I ought to have gone to see who was there, instead of listening to you."
I went at once into my salon, and found Ballangier sitting in a corner with a book in his hand.
I was agreeably surprised to find that he was neatly dressed. He wore a gray blouse, but it was spotlessly clean; his trousers were well brushed, his shoes polished; he had a clean white collar and a black cravat. It was the costume of a well-behaved mechanic who was a credit to his trade.
He came to meet me, with a timid air, saying:
"I ask your pardon, Charles, for waiting for you; I did wrong, perhaps; but when I came, about two o'clock, your servant said you would soon be back; and so, as I was anxious to see you, I said to myself: 'As long as I'm here, I may as well stay.'"
"You did well, Ballangier, very well; I am very glad to see you, too. Let me look at you. From your dress, and the expression of self-content that I can read in your face, I am sure that you are behaving better now."
"That is true; at all events, I am trying to. I am working for a manufacturer in Faubourg Saint-Antoine—I had a letter of recommendation to him."