sensations Godefroid felt when he found himself in this old dwelling,
in presence of four silent human beings, who seemed as solemn as the
things which surrounded them.

He did not look about him, being seized with curiosity as to Madame de
la Chanterie, whose name was already a puzzle to him. This lady was
evidently a person of another epoch, not to say of another world. Her
face was placid, its tones both soft and cold; the nose aquiline; the
forehead full of sweetness; the eyes brown; the chin double; and all
were framed in silvery white hair. Her gown could only be called by
its ancient name of "fourreau," so tightly was she sheathed within it,
after the fashion of the eighteenth century. The material--a brown
silk, with very fine and multiplied green lines--seemed also of that
period. The bodice, which was one with the skirt, was partly hidden
beneath a mantle of /poult-de-soie/ edged with black lace, and
fastened on the bosom by a brooch enclosing a miniature. Her feet, in
black velvet boots, rested on a cushion. Madame de la Chanterie, like
her maid, was knitting a stocking, and she, too, had a needle stuck
through her white curls beneath the lace of her cap.

"Have you seen Monsieur Millet?" she said to Godefroid, in the head
voice peculiar to the dowagers of the faubourg Saint-Germain,
observing that her visitor seemed confused, and as if to put the words
into his mouth.

"Yes, madame."

"I fear that the apartment will scarcely suit you," she said, noticing
the elegance and newness of his clothes.