He has some one with him--who
is it? Papa . . . Mathilde, look! Who is it coming back with
Charles in such a hurry?"
Mathilde, who was setting the room in order, glanced through the
lace curtains.
"I do not know," she answered indifferently. "Just an ordinary
man."
Desiree had turned away from the window as if to go downstairs and
meet her husband. She paused and looked back again over her
shoulder towards the street.
"Is it?" she said rather oddly. "I do not know--I--"
And she stood with the incompleted sentence on her lips waiting
irresolutely for Charles to come upstairs.
In a moment he burst into the room with all his usual exuberance and
high spirit.
"Picture to yourselves!" he cried, standing in the doorway with his
arms extended before him. "I was hurrying to head-quarters when I
ran into the embrace of my dear Louis--my cousin. I have told you a
hundred times that he is brother and father and everything to me. I
am so glad that he should come to-day of all days."
He turned towards the stairs with a gesture of welcome, still with
his two arms outheld, as if inviting the man, who came rather slowly
upstairs, to come to his embrace and to the embrace of those who
were now his relations.
"There was a little suspicion of sadness--I do not know what it was-
-at the table; but now it is all gone. All is well now that this
unexpected guest has come. This dear Louis."
He went to the landing as he spoke, and returned bringing by the arm
a man taller than himself and darker, with a still brown face and
steady eyes set close together.
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