“Of course it will all be right,” she said to herself, annoyed that she should feel disturbed for such a cause. “I am foolish to think of it.”
The street door was opened and left wide, after F. Chevreuse’s fashion, and she heard his quick, light step in the entry. Dropping her book, she smiled involuntarily at the sound. How sweet to a woman is this nightly coming home of father, son, or husband! He came in, went to the inner room, and opened and closed his desk, then returned to the sitting-room, threw up the corner window, from which he could see into her apartment, and seated himself in his arm-chair, leaning forward as he did so to bow a smiling recognition across to her. His day’s work was as nearly over as it could be. In the morning, he must go out to meet his duties; in the evening, they must seek him. The hour for their social life had come; and though subject to constant interruptions, so that scarcely ten minutes at a time were left them for confidential intercourse, they were free to snatch what they could get.
Mrs. Chevreuse put her book away, and opened the door between the two sitting-rooms. “Father,” she said immediately, “is it true that you are going to have that Jew play the organ at S. John’s?”
The priest rose hastily, and his mother’s foot was arrested on the threshold; for just opposite her, coming into the room from the entry, was Miss Lily Carthusen, leading a little girl by the hand, and followed by “that Jew”; while, in wrathful perspective, like a thunder-head on the horizon, gloomed the face of Jane, the servant-woman.
The silence was only for the space of a lightning-flash, and the flash was not wanting; it shot across the room from a pair of eyes that looked as though they might sear to ashes what they gazed upon in anger. The next moment, the eyes drooped, and their owner was bowing to F. Chevreuse.
Miss Carthusen was perfectly self-possessed and voluble, seeming to have heard nothing. “This little wilful girl would come with Mr. Schöninger, madame,” she said; “and, as he is not going back, I was obliged to come and see her home again safely.”
The truth was that Miss Lily, who boarded in the same house with the gentleman, had encouraged the child to come, in order that she might accompany her.
F. Chevreuse had blushed slightly but he showed no other embarrassment. It was the first time that Mr. Schöninger had entered his house, and he welcomed him with a more marked cordiality, perhaps, on account of the unfortunate speech which had greeted his coming.
“You are welcome, sir! I thank you for taking the trouble to come to me. It was my place to call on you, but my engagements left me no time. Allow me to present you to my mother, Mme. Chevreuse.”
“My mother” had probably never been placed in so disagreeable a position, but her behavior was admirable. The man she had involuntarily insulted was forced to admit that nothing could be more perfect than the respectful courtesy of her salutation, which maintained with dignified sincerity the distance she really felt, while it expressed her regret at having intruded that feeling on him.