"Mariette!" cried Mademoiselle Cormon.

"Mademoiselle!" exclaimed Mariette, who was occupied in closing the
gate.

"Has the gentleman arrived?"

"No, mademoiselle."

"Where's my uncle?"

"He is at church, mademoiselle."

Jacquelin and Josette were by this time on the first step of the
portico, holding out their hands to manoeuvre the exit of their
mistress from the carriole as she pulled herself up by the sides of
the vehicle and clung to the curtains. Mademoiselle then threw herself
into their arms; because for the last two years she dared not risk her
weight on the iron step, affixed to the frame of the carriage by a
horrible mechanism of clumsy bolts.

When Mademoiselle Cormon reached the level of the portico she looked
about her courtyard with an air of satisfaction.

"Come, come, Mariette, leave that gate alone; I want you."

"There's something in the wind," whispered Jacquelin, as Mariette
passed the carriole.

"Mariette, what provisions have you in the house?" asked Mademoiselle