As they sat down to table the door opened and Mother Toulouche came in, carrying a capacious basket.
"Well," cried the old fence, "I got wind that something was going on here, and I said to myself, 'Why shouldn't Mother Toulouche be in it as well?' One more or less don't matter, eh, Josephine?"
Josephine assented and made room for her. Before sitting down the old woman put her basket on the floor.
"If I invite myself, Fifine, I bring something to the feast. Here are some portugals and two dozen snails which will help out."
All at once, Josephine, who, despite the general gaiety, was absent-minded and preoccupied, rose and ran to the door, answering a knock. She was at bottom horribly uneasy at hearing nothing of her lover. She began to fear that the police for once might have got the upper hand. It was little Paulot, the porter's son, who rushed in quite out of breath.
"Mme. Josephine, mother told me to come up and warn you that two gentlemen were asking for you in the lodge just now. Two gentlemen in special 'rig.'"
"Do you know them, Paulot?"
"I don't, Mme. Josephine."
"What did they want of me?"
"They didn't say."