“A young man—did he give his name?”
“Monsieur Edmond Didier.”
“Edmond Didier! Oh! my dear friend, that’s the young man, who—the young man, who—you know—who took so much trouble to help you to buy this house.”
“Yes, yes; I remember very well; but that’s no reason why you should blush so. Why, you are all confused. Come, come, Agathe, control yourself.—Show the gentleman in, Poucette.”
“Oh! my dear love, does my hair look nice? I didn’t have time to braid it this morning.”
“You look very sweet. But do sit still, don’t jump about on your chair like that; this young man will think that you have nervous spasms.”
“O Honorine! how unkind you are!”
Edmond’s appearance put an end to this conversation. He entered the room very modestly, apologizing for his presumption. One is generally well received when one displays some fear of coming inopportunely. The young man’s courteous, gentlemanly demeanor and his reserved manners prepossessed Honorine in his favor. As for Agathe, the flush that overspread her cheeks, her confusion, her eyes, which she was afraid to turn upon the new arrival, demonstrated clearly enough that his presence caused her the most intense emotion; and her voice was almost inaudible when she replied to Edmond’s greeting and inquiry for her health.
But when the first awkward moment had passed, the young man, reassured by the cordial welcome he had received, became amiable and sprightly, recovered his spirits, and his conversation soon afforded much amusement to the ladies, to whom he gave all the news of Paris. Then he spoke enthusiastically of the house, the situation, the outlook.
“We also have a very pretty garden,” murmured Agathe.