“She is a charming, good girl,” said the mother to her son, when they were left together on one of these occasions, after Jaqueline’s departure.
“That she is!” exclaimed Nicolas, stretching out his legs, twirling his thumbs, and looking down into the fire.
“And so good-tempered!” added Madame Margot, “and so willing and clever about a house! Why, since she has been here, she has been as good as a waiter to us.”
“Worth more than all we ever had put together in a lump,” said Nicolas.
“She would make an excellent wife,” observed the mother, looking archly at her son; but he would not look at her, being apparently watching some change going on among the ashes. “And she will bring her husband some money too,” she added, after a pause.
“The devil take the money!” exclaimed Nicolas, jumping up and striding hastily across the room.
“Oho! Is it so?” thought the restauratrice; “then the omelet’s ready for the pan;” and, in the spirit of that conviction, she led her son into a conversation, the result of which was, that in the course of a few days she contrived to make an arrangement with a neighbouring traiteur, whereby he engaged to take charge of her establishment for the space of one month, leaving her and her son at liberty to take a journey into the country on business.
What passed during those few days between Jaqueline and Nicolas need not be told, except that he now and then said things which reminded her of certain of the speeches of the “pack of fools,” whom she had encountered on the memorable missing Tuesday.
It was a fine day in September, when Madame Margot, Jaqueline, and Nicolas, took their seats in a patache; and were safely conveyed to the Cock and Bottle, where, to our heroine’s great surprise, they were welcomed by her father and the little old lady of the ruins.