“Now that I am prosperous, I don’t care what my parents say; I owe nothing to anybody and I am as happy as a king, I mean, happier than a king. But come on; Marguerite will be very glad to see you; we often speak of you.”
I followed Ernest; he led me into a very attractive house, and we went up three flights; he rang, and my former neighbor opened the door. She uttered a cry of surprise when she saw me.
“Ah! it is Monsieur Blémont! What a miracle!”
“Parbleu! if he has come, my dear love, it is simply because I met him and brought him by force; but for that, you wouldn’t have seen him yet.”
“Ah! how wicked it is to forget one’s good friends, one’s neighbors!”
“Mon Dieu! madame, you see—that——”
“Ha! ha! he is getting mixed up; he is ashamed of his wrongdoing,” said Ernest, laughingly; “we must be generous and say nothing more to him about it.”
They ushered me into a bedroom which served as a salon; it was not magnificent, but there was everything that was necessary, and there was an atmosphere of order and of neatness which did much credit to the mistress of the house.
Madame Ernest, for I could call her by no other name, was a little stouter than of old; she was most attractive, and her eyes and all her features expressed a contentment, a happiness which added to her charm. They made me sit down, and we talked of the evenings we had passed together in the attic, long ago.
“Are you married to your Eugénie?” asked Madame Ernest.