He had hardly said it, when, like a plaintive echo, another voice, a
human voice this time, childish and wavering, proceeding from a dark
corner, faltered: "Rei-eine--Rei-eine!"

"Hark!" murmured Julien," some one answered."

His companion seized the lamp, and advanced toward the portion of the
room left in shadow. Suddenly he stopped short, and stammered some vague
excuse.

Julien, who followed him, then perceived, with alarm, in a sort of niche
formed by two screens, entirely covered with illustrations from Epinal,
a strange-looking being stretched in an easy-chair, which was covered
with pillows and almost hidden under various woolen draperies. He was
dressed in a long coat of coarse, pale-blue cloth. He was bareheaded,
and his long, white hair formed a weird frame for a face of bloodless hue
and meagre proportions, from which two vacant eyes stared fixedly. He
sat immovable and his arms hung limply over his knees.

"Monsieur," said Julien, bowing ceremoniously, "we are quite ashamed at
having disturbed you. Your servant forgot to inform us of your presence,
and we were waiting for Mademoiselle Reine, without thinking that--"

The old man continued immovable, not seeming to understand; he kept
repeating, in the same voice, like a frightened child:

"Rei-eine! Rei-eine!"

The two bewildered travellers gazed at this sepulchral-looking personage,
then at each other interrogatively, and began to feel very uncomfortable.