"Certainly—conduct me to her at once."
Blassemare, with a malicious smile and shrug, exclaimed—
"Well, monsieur, you shall be obeyed; let us proceed to Madame Le Prun, by all means."
He led the way; they ascended a staircase, Le Prun growing gloomier and gloomier at every step.
Smothering his malicious laughter, Blassemare glided past him, and opening a door exclaimed—
"Madame, a gentleman desires the honor of an interview; Monsieur Le Prun attends you."
Le Prun entered; a step was heard in a recess opening from the room, and a form entered, before which he recoiled as from a malignant spectre.
"Is it this one or the other?" asked Blassemare, with much simplicity.
Le Prun did not hear him; he was astounded and overpowered in the presence of the phantom-like form that stood in its strange draperies of flannel at the other end of the chamber, eyeing him askance, with a look of more than mortal hate.
"It is not fair to disturb such a meeting; the domestic affections, eh? had best be indulged in private."