"By what chance?" began de Loubersac.
Bobinette interrupted:
"It is rather I who might ask you that, Monsieur Henri!... As for me, I have been spending four days with my family at Rouen.... I asked for a holiday and Monsieur de Naarboveck very kindly granted it ... but you?"
De Loubersac was nervously chewing the end of his blonde moustache. With a shrug he replied:
"Oh, I! It is never surprising to meet me in a train: I am constantly on the move: here—there—everywhere!... You have news of Mademoiselle Wilhelmine?"
"Excellent news. You are coming to Monsieur de Naarboveck's soon?"
"I think of calling on the baron this evening."
Talk continued, commonplace, desultory. What questions crowded to his lips, sternly repressed!
"She lies," thought he, while listening to the details of her family visit. "She certainly lies!... I must pretend to be her dupe—the miserable creature!"
His whole soul revolted at the thought that this Bobinette, involved as she must be in disgraceful adventures, abominable tragedies, shared Wilhelmine's home, was her so-called friend! He was seized by a mad desire to grip Bobinette by the throat—silence her lying tongue—arrest, handcuff her on the spot—render her powerless!