blistered. 'Le thé! Le thé!' called the voice in tones tragically imperative. 'Et n'oubliez pas le lait!'
Then, after an interval of silence, the door was slowly opened, and an old man, derelict, nondescript, morose, appeared in the doorway. He showed no sign of the excitement that reigned within and looked at them with an unmoved if unhostile gravity.
'Madame la comtesse est chez elle?' Jill inquired. After the sadness of the cemetery, she felt this scene restoring. It made her want to laugh and reminded her of 'Alice' and the frog gardener.
'Mais oui, mais oui,' he answered, as one who knew, with her, that the fact was self-evident; and, standing back to let them enter, 'Entrez donc, Monsieur et dame.'
He wore a tattered grey linen jacket, black-and-white checked trousers, black felt slippers, and, oddest touch, a frayed white tie very correctly placed. His face was sunken yet swollen, with folded lips and small bright eyes; his spare hair, combed carefully forward over his baldness, was still almost black, and he looked like an ancient though respectable rat emerging froma drain.
The hall they entered was high and empty. It was lighted by a glass door, through which one could see the apple-trees of a jardin potager, and by a tall window placed over the stairs. A faded, vast, pretentious battle-piece hung on a wall.
Joseph threw open a door and announced in impartial tones: 'Madame la comtesse descendra tout de suite.'
