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She
held
out
her
hand
.
"
I
know
,
Monsieur
--
Charles
told
me
of
your
meeting
last
night
,
and
I
am
very
glad
that
he
asked
you
to
dine
with
us
to-day
.
"
Duroy
blushed
to
the
roots
of
his
hair
,
not
knowing
how
to
reply
;
he
felt
that
he
was
being
inspected
from
his
head
to
his
feet
.
He
half
thought
of
excusing
himself
,
of
inventing
an
explanation
of
the
carelessness
of
his
toilette
,
but
he
did
not
know
how
to
touch
upon
that
delicate
subject
.
He
seated
himself
upon
a
chair
she
pointed
out
to
him
,
and
as
he
sank
into
its
luxurious
depths
,
it
seemed
to
him
that
he
was
entering
a
new
and
charming
life
,
that
he
would
make
his
mark
in
the
world
,
that
he
was
saved
.
He
glanced
at
Mme.
Forestier
.
She
wore
a
gown
of
pale
blue
cashmere
which
clung
gracefully
to
her
supple
form
and
rounded
outlines
;
her
arms
and
throat
rose
in
,
lily-white
purity
from
the
mass
of
lace
which
ornamented
the
corsage
and
short
sleeves
.
Her
hair
was
dressed
high
and
curled
on
the
nape
of
her
neck
.
Duroy
grew
more
at
his
ease
under
her
glance
,
which
recalled
to
him
,
he
knew
not
why
,
that
of
the
girl
he
had
met
the
preceding
evening
at
the
Folies-Bergeres
.
Mme.
Forestier
had
gray
eyes
,
a
small
nose
,
full
lips
,
and
a
rather
heavy
chin
,
an
irregular
,
attractive
face
,
full
of
gentleness
and
yet
of
malice
.
After
a
short
silence
,
she
asked
:
"
Have
you
been
in
Paris
a
long
time
?
"
Gradually
regaining
his
self-possession
,
he
replied
:
"
a
few
months
,
Madame
.
I
am
in
the
railroad
employ
,
but
my
friend
Forestier
has
encouraged
me
to
hope
that
,
thanks
to
him
,
I
can
enter
into
journalism
.
"
She
smiled
kindly
and
murmured
in
a
low
voice
:
"
I
know
.
"
The
bell
rang
again
and
the
servant
announced
:
"
Mme.
de
Marelle
.
"
She
was
a
dainty
brunette
,
attired
in
a
simple
,
dark
robe
;
a
red
rose
in
her
black
tresses
seemed
to
accentuate
her
special
character
,
and
a
young
girl
,
or
rather
a
child
,
for
such
she
was
,
followed
her
.
Mme.
Forestier
said
:
"
Good
evening
,
Clotilde
.
"
