"Go, ma bonne Stasie. It must be some one to see Monsieur Félix; conduct him around to the other side of the house."
The door was carefully unbolted, and Stasie, with all imaginable precautions against sudden assault, put her head out.
"But what are you doing, Stasie?" screamed Mademoiselle Aurore, as she saw the door steadily open. She had not time for the accustomed iteration, but was forced to escape unceremoniously into Madame Lareveillère's room to escape the view of the intruder. Madame was unbuttoning her peignoir.
"What do you think?" Aurore was excited, or she would not have been guilty of the filial impiety. "That sotte Stasie has actually opened the front door, and there is a stranger, at this moment, in the hall. But no; impossible!"—as she heard a stiff door being pushed open—"in the parlor! She has invited him into the parlor!"
"Mamzelle," said Stasie, coming into the room.
"Well, Stasie, I compliment you! Letting a stranger into the house this way!" Mademoiselle Aurore's voice was strident; the tone
