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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Follow me upstairs," said he, returning in a few minutes; "madame will see you." She followed him up the large staircase, and through a suite of apartments sufficiently grand to intimidate her young imagination. "Madame est dans son cabinet. Entrez mais entrez donc, entrez toujours."
She will never go to my half-brother." He turned once more and mentally beat his breast as he muttered: "Why do I not decide?" Somebody touched the doorknob. Honoré stepped forward and opened it. It was a mortgager. "Ah! entrez, Monsieur." He retained the visitor's hand, leading him in and talking pleasantly in French until both had found chairs.
It was done by opening his grey eyes rather wide, allowing the corners of his mouth to droop, and assuming a gentle, pleading expression, resembling that of the late little Lord Fauntleroy who must, by the way, be quite old now, and an awful prig. "Entrez!" said Mademoiselle, in shrill French accents. So he entered. "Eh bien?" she said rather impatiently.
I will never forgive!" A little later in the afternoon, when the rose of sunset lay on the snowy hills, some one knocked at the door of Leclere's house. "ENTREZ!" he cried. "Who is there? I see not very well by this light. Who is it?" "It is me," said 'Toinette, her cheeks rosier than the snow outside, "nobody but me.
We eyed one another in silence for a second or two. Then the girl with the harp, the instrument she was manipulating proved to be fashioned more like a harp than a guitar called out to me, "Entrez, monsieur! Soye le bienvenu!" 'I was a little tired.
Mais entrez donc, monsieur," cried Josephine, whom I can never teach to comprehend or respect English customs, "Eh! entrez, entrez, monsieur; madame est a sa toilette." As I looked up I could not forbear smiling at the extreme ease and decision of Josephine's manner, and the excessive doubt and anxiety in the gentleman's appearance.
"He will see you," she whispered, as I crossed the stone floor of the kitchen. "He is in the little room," and she pointed to a narrow door close by the big chimney, a door provided with old-fashioned little glass panes upon which are glued transparent chromos of wild ducks. I knocked gently. "Entrez!" came a tired voice from within.
There was soon another knock, and the same wolfish voice replied as before, "Entrez." This time a tall, manly young fellow, named Charles Gowan, opened the door and entered, Always on the alert for Indian treachery, he had his suspicion now, before entering suspected strongly, that all was not right.
"Entrez," cried a voice, in answer to my rap. I obeyed the signal, and found myself in a room of tolerable dimensions and multiplied utilities. A decayed silk curtain of a dingy blue, drawn across a recess, separated the chambre a coucher from the salon.
She came to the window and pulled aside the curtain; then she stood looking at him a moment. She was not smiling; she seemed serious. "Mais entrez donc!" she said at last. Acton passed in across the window-sill; he wondered, for an instant, what was the matter with her. But the next moment she had begun to smile and had put out her hand. "Better late than never," she said.
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