Virginie’s anger had vanished and she laughed as if she would die. Auguste looked at Léonie, who sat in her chair, with her head thrown back, and did not open her eyes; while the waiter, seeing nothing of what took place inside the room, went downstairs, crying:
“I’ll bring up some more soup; it’ll only take a minute.”
Meanwhile Virginie had walked up to Madame Saint-Edmond, and, taking the mustard pot from the table, had held it under her nose; with the result that the pretty blonde instantly recovered consciousness and cast a languid glance on the person who had been so attentive. But when she recognized Virginie, her expression changed, and she roughly pushed away the mustard pot which that young lady was holding to her nose.
“Does madame feel better?” queried Virginie, imitating Léonie’s mellifluous tone.
The latter, choking with rage, rose and said in a trembling voice:
“I don’t need anything.”
“Come, my dear love,” said Auguste, “we must not intrude upon madame any longer; I deeply regret that I frightened her companion away. But doubtless the gentleman is only awaiting our departure, to return; we must not compel him to stay in the kitchen any longer. Let’s go and finish our dinner.”
“Yes, let’s go back and eat our omelette soufflée,” said Virginie, with a profound curtsy to Léonie, and she returned to her seat at the table in the other room. Auguste was about to do likewise, when Léonie ran to him, raising her eyes to the ceiling, and said in an undertone:
“You judge me by appearances; but I swear to you——”
“Oh! upon my word, this is too much,” cried Auguste; and he angrily slammed the door in Madame Saint-Edmond’s face, exclaiming: “Take a woman in the act, and she would still say: ‘Don’t judge by appearances.’”