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."

"Good evening, Madeleine."

They embraced each other, then the child offered her forehead with
the assurance of an adult, saying:

"Good evening, cousin."

Mme. Forestier kissed her, and then made the introductions: