"I find it a dream too. I can't understand. When did you leave Melford?"
"About five days ago. I would tell you the day of the week, if I had the habit of exactness."
"And Madame de Verneuil?"
"Is very well, thank you."
After this rebuff I asked no more questions. I remarked that the weather was still cold. Paragot laughed again.
"He has turned into a nice little bourgeois, hasn't he, Blanquette? He knows how to make polite conversation. He is tidy in his habits in the Rue des Saladiers, eh? He does not spit on the floor or spill absinthe over the counterpane. Ah! je suis un vieux salaud, hein? Don't say no. And Narcisse?"
"It is he who will be contented to see you," cried Blanquette. "And so are we all. Ah oui, en effet, je suis contente!" She heaved a great sigh as though she had awakened from the night-mare of seeing herself a dripping corpse in the Morgue. "It is no longer the same thing when you are not in the house. Truly I am happy, Master. You can't understand."
There was a little throb in her voice which Paragot seemed to notice, for as he bent down to her, his grip of my arm relaxed, and, I suppose, his grip of hers tightened.
"It gives you such pleasure that I come back, my little Blanquette?" he said tenderly.
I craned my head forward and saw her raise her faithful eyes to his and smile, as she pronounced her eternal "Oui, Maître."