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"Did some one in Oakdale tell you Tom was missing?" interrogated Grace, cutting almost impatiently into Jean's narrative. "No, Mam'selle. Only I hav' speak the bon jour to my frien's as I come through the town. Some days have pass since firs' I see this." Jean pulled a newspaper from a pocket of his weather-stained coat.
I told mam'selle you had her portrait in your sitting-room," laughed the fat concierge, leaning on her broom. "I'm sure it's quite like enough to be hers, bless her sweet face!" I felt myself turn scarlet. To hide my confusion I took the picture down, and carried it to the window. "You will see it better by this light," I said, pretending to dust it with my handkerchief.
"What right has she to call me Marie?" she says to Nicolas in a very audible under-tone. Mademoiselle's black eyes close till they look like lines: Marie does not see her face, but Nicolas Marais shivers, he hardly knows why. A restraint has come over the merry trio, and Nicolas abhors restraint. "Tiens!" he says carelessly, "there is a fresh bevy of basket-women, Mam'selle Lesage."
He turned a sudden scarlet as he studied the mop of black curling hair, the long lashes, through which her eyes glittered, the brown skin that was sun kissed rather than of a copper tint, the shapely figure, and small hands that looked as if they might grasp and hold on. "No, Mam'selle, I think you are not." Then he looked at Pani. "You live here?" "Oh, not far away.
And, having led M. de Tregars into the vestibule, he called out, "Mam'selle Amanda!" A woman at once made her appearance who was a worthy mate for the valet. She must have been about forty, and the most alarming duplicity could be read upon her features, deeply pitted by the small-pox.
This door was opened at my coming, and very much surprised I was to find inside the coach Mam'selle Catherine, dressed in pink satin, her head covered with a hood of black lace, underneath which her fair hair seemed to sport. Confused I remained standing on the step. "Come in," she said, "and sit down near me. Shut the door if you please; you must not be seen.
I had heard of the lady before I ever saw her, and had wondered why Naapu chose to distinguish a female fish-vender even if she had begun with old Dubois. As soon as I clapped eyes on her, I perceived her distinction, her "difference" the reason for the frequent "Mam'selle." She was, at first glimpse, unusual. To begin with, never was so white a face matched with hair and brows and eyes so black.
Grace was wearing her most hopeful face as she gave the cherished letter into the old man's keeping. "When you have found Tom, and I know that you will, tell him that I am waiting for him and give him this letter." "It shall be of a sacred trust," Jean assured, crossing himself again. "Be of the brav' heart, Mam'selle. For you and M'sieu' Tom the 'appiness is near. Now it is time to go."
Then saluting the young commander, in a manner that would not admit of denial, la belle Barbérie dismissed her lover and the valet, together. "You have a pleasant office, Monsieur François," said the former, as he was lighted to the outer door of the pavilion; "it is one that many a gallant gentleman would envy." "Oui, Sair. It be grand plaisir to serve Mam'selle Alide.
"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon, but you have put me down Mademoiselle, and and you see, sir, I have my little girl." "A c'est egal, mam'selle, they don't mind these things in France au plaisir de vous voir. Adieu." "They don't mind these things in France," said I to myself, repeating the old consul's phrase, which I could not help feeling as a whole chapter on his nation.
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