“Sacrebleu! why didn’t I find him sooner? But I only returned to Paris the day before yesterday; and I intended to go to Montfermeil to-morrow to look for him, hoping to be luckier there than in this city, where Schtrack and I have been scouring every quarter for two days, without success.”
At last they reached the house in which Virginie lived; as they went upstairs Bertrand was as excited as if he were going to see a long lost son; and Virginie said to him:
“You mustn’t show yourself to Auguste right away; he is still very weak, and the sight of you might cause him too much emotion. You understand, don’t you, Bertrand?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
“I’ll go in first, and prepare Auguste gently; then I’ll motion to you.”
“Yes, mademoiselle, I’ll wait in another room.”
“No; as I have but one, you must wait on the landing. I’ll leave the door ajar.”
“All right; but don’t wait long before you give me the signal, for I am crazy to have my arms around him.”
They arrived at Virginie’s door; she opened it, then partly closed it, and Bertrand stood as close as possible, hardly daring to breathe.
Auguste had risen and was sitting at a window, impatiently awaiting Virginie, whose long absence made him anxious.