Jules would have become rhapsodical again if the whistle of the train had not sounded, and he was obliged hurriedly to help Madame Perrault into her compartment. He shook the hand that she offered him, received a few last messages, and he watched the train as it pulled out of the station. Then, with a sigh, he turned and walked back to his office. VIII After the departure of Madeleine, Jules would have found his apartment cheerless, if he had not used it merely for sleeping. As soon as he rose in the morning, he went to Madame Perrault's, where he breakfasted with Mademoiselle Blanche. In spite of her duties elsewhere, Madeleine kept his rooms in order, and his new domestic arrangements did not in the least inconvenience him. Indeed, he liked them, and he almost dreaded the return of Mademoiselle's mother. This would probably not take place for several weeks, however, for the illness of her aunt Sophie proved to be very tedious, though after the first ten days she was pronounced out of danger. Madeleine had speedily won the affections of Mademoiselle Blanche, and she secretly confided to Jules that the girl was an angel. "I knew you'd think so," Jules replied. "I've thought so ever since I first saw her." "Ah, but it's wicked that she should have to do those dreadful things every night!" Madeleine cried, rolling her eyes, and throwing up her hands in horror. "It freezes my blood." "But she likes it," Jules explained. "Ah, it's wicked just the same, the poor child!" Madeleine had speedily adapted herself to her duties as dresser to Mademoiselle Blanche, and her nightly trips to the theatre were the most exciting experiences of her life. After seeing the plunge from the top of the Circus, however, she had refused to look at it again. "It freezes my blood," she would repeat, whenever Jules referred to it. "It's too horrible!" "But she makes a lot of money by it," Jules insisted. "She would do much better to stay poor," Madeleine replied, with a tartness that was rare with her and made Jules burst out laughing. "Madeleine," he said, confidentially. "Madeleine, come over here." Madeleine bent her head towards him with a smile on her face. "Madeleine, do you think there's any one--any one that she cares about particularly--any one you know? Eh?" Madeleine's wrinkles deepened, as the smile spread over her face and lighted her faded eyes. "Ah, Monsieur Jules, she is very fond of her sisters. She is always talking about them, especially about _la petite_ Jeanne. Then she's very fond of her mamma, too, of course." "Madeleine, you're trying to plague me now. You know I don't mean that. I mean any--any--?" "Any gentleman, Monsieur Jules?" the old woman asked. "Yes, Madeleine, any gentleman." Madeleine grew thoughtful. "She often speaks of Monsieur Berthier, who is going to marry her mother. She says he's very kind to her sisters."