“Go away last night?”
“And it wasn’t you who placed this memorandum book and this note on my mantel this morning?”
“No, monsieur, I haven’t been into your room since yesterday morning.”
“Pettermann, send me the little maid-servant, whose name I believe is Marie,—a stout, short girl.”
“Oh! I know, monsieur, she is the one who brought me my breakfast yesterday.”
The maid appeared. She denied having brought the note and the book; but she confessed that she had said that morning, before the other servants, that I had wanted to go away in the night.
What did it matter by whom Eugénie had sent me those things? I was no longer angry with her for doing it; but as I did not wish to compel her to keep her room, I would go away. And yet, if I should go at once, she would think that I could not endure to be near her, and I did not want to convey that idea to her, as a reward for the presents she had made me. I did not know what course to pursue.
I had ordered breakfast served in my room, and was about to sit down, when Monsieur Roquencourt appeared.
“Good-morning, Monsieur Dalbreuse.”
“Monsieur, accept my respects. What happy circumstance affords me the honor of this early visit?”