CHAPTER X.
At the Races.
The Maréchale was prepared for his visit, and had been awaiting him.
“This is nice of you!” she said, fixing a glance of her fine eyes on his face, with an expression at the same time tender and mirthful.
When she had fastened her bonnet-strings, she sat down on the divan, and remained silent.
“Shall we go?” said Frederick. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“Oh, no! not before half-past one!” as if she had imposed this limit to her indecision.
At last, when the hour had struck:
“Ah! well, andiamo, caro mio!” And she gave a final touch to her head-bands, and left directions for Delphine.
“Is Madame coming home to dinner?”
“Why should we, indeed? We shall dine together somewhere—at the Café Anglais, wherever you wish.”
“Be it so!”
Her little dog
