“Upon my word, I am very sorry that I disturbed you, Bertrand,” resumed Virginie, preparing some sweetened water for herself; “I might just as well have gone to get it myself, for I know where everything is. I am perfectly at home here. But you are so good-natured!”
“I do my duty, mademoiselle,” said Bertrand, with a military salute.
“I know, Monsieur Bertrand, how attached you are to Auguste,” said Virginie, assuming a sentimental tone. “And so, whenever I mention you to him, I am very glad to speak in terms of praise. That’s no more than justice, that’s sure. Auguste, who has every confidence in me, will follow my advice, I trust, and you’ll find, Monsieur Bertrand, that I am not capable—of—of never doing——”
Virginie always became entangled when she tried to talk sense or to be sentimental. Bertrand confounded himself in reverences, awaiting the end of a speech which he did not comprehend; but luckily for Virginie, the bell rang.
“There’s Auguste!” she cried, while Bertrand went to the door.
Thereupon there was a great commotion in the salon. Virginie rose, all ready to rush to the door, glaring at the blonde lady with an expression of defiance. The latter, too, had risen; but she did not look at Virginie, and did her utmost to maintain a calm and indifferent attitude.
But their hopes were blasted once more. It was not Dalville who had rung, but Tony, his diminutive groom, who came to inform Bertrand that after the ball, which was at Madame de la Thomassinière’s, the resplendent Athalie had carried away a part of the company to breakfast at her country estate. Auguste was among the number; his hostess had refused to allow him even a moment to return home and change his clothes. But, as Auguste had emptied his purse at cards during the evening, he sent his little jockey, with the cabriolet, to obtain some money, which he was to deliver to his master at Madame de la Thomassinière’s estate.
As Virginie had held the salon door ajar, both ladies heard what the little groom said to Bertrand.
“You see, mesdames, it is useless for you to wait any longer,” said Bertrand, returning to the salon; “monsieur’s off to the country; he has sent for something and that means that he isn’t likely to return very soon.”
“Yes, he has sent for money,” said Virginie, with a sigh. “God! how the man does throw it away! It’s frightful! If he only gave me a quarter of what he——”