Then I walked into the _salle-à-manger_, and almost into the arms of an extraordinarily handsome girl who was standing just inside the door. "This is really an eventful day," I thought to myself. CHAPTER VI. A Hint of Something Serious. Occurrences such as this induce in a man of imagination a sense of sudden shy intimacy. The physical encounter seems to typify and foreshadow some intermingling of destiny. This occurs with peculiar force when the lady is as beautiful as was the girl I saw before me. "I beg your pardon, madame," said I, with a whirl of my hat. "I beg your pardon, sir," said the lady, with an inclination of her head. "One is so careless in entering rooms hurriedly," I observed. "Oh, but it is stupid to stand just by the door!" insisted the lady. Conscious that she was scanning my appearance, I could but return the compliment. She was very tall, almost as tall as I was myself; you would choose to call her stately, rather than slender. She was very fair, with large lazy blue eyes and a lazy smile to match. In all respects she was the greatest contrast to the Duchess of Saint-Maclou. "You were about to pass out?" said I, holding the door. She bowed; but at the moment another lady--elderly, rather stout, and, to speak it plainly, of homely and unattractive aspect--whom I had not hitherto perceived, called from a table at the other end of the room where she was sitting: "We ought to start early to-morrow." The younger lady turned her head slowly toward the speaker. "My dear mother," said she, "I never start early. Besides, this town is interesting--the landlord says so." "But he wishes us to arrive for _déjeuner_." "We will take it here. Perhaps we will drive over in the afternoon--perhaps the next day." And the young lady gazed at her mother with an air of indifference--or rather it seemed to me strangely like one of aversion and defiance. "My dear!" cried the elder in consternation. "My dearest Marie!" "It is just as I thought," said I to myself complacently. Marie Delhasse--for beyond doubt it was she--walked slowly across the room and sat down by her mother. I took a table nearer the door; the waiter appeared, and I ordered a light supper. Marie poured out a glass of wine from a bottle on the table; apparently they had been supping. They began to converse together in low tones. My repast arriving, I fell to. A few moments later, I heard Marie say, in her composed indolent tones: "I'm not sure I shall go at all. _Entre nous_, he bores me."