"What! it's you, mademoiselle?" said Mouret, whom Denise despite all her manœuvring found before her on the staircase, a small pocket-candleholder in his hand.
She stammered, and tried to explain that she had been to look for something. But he was not angry. He gazed at her with his paternal, and at the same time inquisitive, air.
"You had permission to go to the theatre, then?"
"Yes, sir."
"And have you enjoyed yourself? What theatre did you go to?"
"I have been in the country, sir."
This made him laugh. Then laying a certain stress on his words, he added: "All alone?"
"No, sir; with a lady friend," she replied, her cheeks burning, shocked as she was by the suspicion which his words implied.
He said no more; but he was still looking at her in her simple black dress and bonnet trim
