the subject as if the first intimation of it had reached you from M. Pelet himself, and be sure you never mention my name, for I would not displease Zoraïde on any account.
"Bien! bien!" interrupted I—for all this chatter and circumlocution began to bore me very much; "I will consult M. Pelet, and the thing shall be settled as you desire. Good evening, mesdames—I am infinitely obliged to you."
"Comment! vous vous en allez dêjá?" exclaimed Madame Pelet.
"Prenez encore quelquechose, monsieur; une pomme cuite, des biscuits, encore une tasse de café?"
"Merci, merci, madame—au revoir." And I backed at last out of the apartment.
Having regained my own room, I set myself to turn over in my mind the incident of the evening. It seemed a queer affair altogether, and queerly managed; the two old women had made quite a little intricate mess of it; still I found that the
