"Do you think so? It's only seven o'clock."
"Nonsense! Your clock is slow."
"It keeps excellent time."
"Oh! I don't know what's the matter with me; I can't keep still."
Adolphine followed her sister with her eyes, thinking:
"It's her love for him that makes her so coquettish and so impatient! It's very funny; when he used to come before, I never thought of looking in my mirror; I thought of him, not of myself."
At last, the bell rang; it was Monsieur Clairval, cold, phlegmatic, taciturn. Next came Madame Mirallon, who always wore full dress, even at small parties. Next came a lawyer and a doctor, enthusiastic whist players, who were constantly disputing, one being a hot partisan of the short-suit lead, the other declaring that a good player would never stoop to that.
At every ring, Fanny gazed eagerly at the door; she made a funny little wry face when she saw that the person who appeared was not he whom she expected.
"My gentleman keeps us waiting a long while!" she murmured; then ran to her sister.—"Adolphine, are you sure you told him Thursday? Perhaps you said some other day?"
"No. At all events, he knows that we have always received on Thursday."