“Madame Blouet, sir.”
Boinville rose eagerly to greet his visitor, and inquired, with a slight blush, for her granddaughter.
“She is very well, sir,” was the answer, “and your visit brought her luck; she received an appointment yesterday in a telegraph office. I could not think of leaving Paris without again thanking you, sir, for your kindness to us.”
Boinville’s heart sank.
“You are to leave Paris; is this position in the provinces?”
“Yes, in the Vosges. Of course I shall go with Claudette; I am eighty years old, and cannot have much longer to live; we shall never part, in this world.”
“Do you go soon?”
“In January. Good-bye, sir; you have been very kind to us, and Claudette begged me to thank you in her name.”
The deputy governor was thunderstruck, and answered only in monosyllables, and when the good woman had left him he sat motionless for a long time with his head in his hands.
That night he slept badly, and the next day was very taciturn with his employes.