"We are longing," they added, "to see the girl from Marseilles he is
going to marry. We should welcome her as a beloved daughter."

Rosalie whispered to me that she could bear it no longer, and begged me
to take her away. We rose, and after we had saluted the company with cold
dignity we left the room. The marquis was visibly disconcerted. As he
escorted us to the door he stammered out compliments, for the want of
something to say, telling Rosalie that he should not have the honour of
seeing her that evening, but that he hoped to call on her the next day.

When we were by ourselves we seemed to breathe again, and spoke to one
another to relieve ourselves of the oppression which weighed on our
minds.

Rosalie thought, as well as I, that the marquis had played us a shameful
trick, and she told me I ought to write him a note, begging him not to
give himself the trouble of calling on us again.

"I will find some means of vengeance," said I; "but I don't think it
would be a good plan to write to him. We will hasten our preparations for
leaving, and receive him to-morrow with that cold politeness which bears
witness to indignation. Above all, we will not make the slightest
reference to his godson."

"If Petri really loves me," said she, "I pity him. I think he is a good
fellow, and I don't feel angry with him for being present at dinner, as
he may possibly be unaware that leis presence was likely to give me
offence. But I still shudder when I think of it: I thought I should have
died when our eyes met! Throughout dinner he could not see my eyes, as I