Cherami had already recognized Madame Capucine and her sons, and, being by no means overjoyed at the meeting, would gladly have turned back to avoid it, but it was too late; so he courageously made the best of it, and replied, with a courteous salutation:
"Myself, fair lady; and I congratulate myself on the good-fortune which I owe to chance; for you are far from home. Do you happen to be going to Romainville?"
"No, monsieur, no; we are not going to Romainville; this isn't the way there, either," replied Madame Capucine, eying her interlocutor from head to foot; and the great change which had taken place in the apparel of her debtor was naturally reflected in her manner of speaking to him. As the change was altogether to his advantage, she smiled graciously, and continued:
"Aunt Duponceau don't live at Romainville any more; she has sold the house she used to own there."
"Indeed? why did she do that?"
"Oh! because—because that neighborhood has such a reputation. You know the ballad: That lovely wood, to lovers——"
"Presents a thousand charms!—Yes, I know it by heart. But there's no wood left, except a little bit which has been bought by a novelist of whom I am very fond, and all surrounded by walls—not the novelist, but his woods; so I don't see what could have frightened your Aunt Duponceau so."
"Mon Dieu! you know how ill-natured people can be! There was always somebody to say: 'Ah! so you live at Romainville; that's the place for grisettes, gin-shops, and low dance-halls! one always meets a lot of drunken people there.'"
"I should say that you find them everywhere."
"It isn't the fashionable drive nowadays."