Virginie returned to the salon, resumed her seat on the couch and attacked the breakfast once more. The neighbor seated herself on a chair at the other end of the room, and while making a pretence of looking out into the street, watched Virginie's every movement from the corner of her eye. Bertrand meanwhile remained in the outer room, leaving the ladies to adjust matters as they chose. As she ate, Virginie hummed snatches of comic opera airs; Madame Saint-Edmond did not make a sound. This situation lasted for some time. At last Virginie, beginning to lose patience, called Bertrand and said to him: "Your pie isn't at all nice; the last time I breakfasted with Auguste, we had a much better one." Bertrand simply removed the scanty remains of the pie, saying to himself: "I'd have sworn that she found it good!" "Bertrand," said Virginie, after a moment, "will you give me a little water and some sugar, please? It will do me a lot of good." "She must need it," said the neighbor to herself, with a sarcastic smile. "By the way, my little Bertrand, you have some orange flower water, haven't you? It will allay nervous excitement." Virginie laughed when she said this, and was evidently making fun of Madame Saint-Edmond; but that lady seemed to pay no heed to what she said. "Upon my word, I am very sorry that I disturbed you, Bertrand," resumed Virginie, preparing some sweetened water for herself; "I might just as well have gone to get it myself, for I know where everything is. I am perfectly at home here. But you are so good-natured!" "I do my duty, mademoiselle," said Bertrand, with a military salute. "I know, Monsieur Bertrand, how attached you are to Auguste," said Virginie, assuming a sentimental tone. "And so, whenever I mention you to him, I am very glad to speak in terms of praise. That's no more than justice, that's sure. Auguste, who has every confidence in me, will follow my advice, I trust, and you'll find, Monsieur Bertrand, that I am not capable--of--of never doing----" Virginie always became entangled when she tried to talk sense or to be sentimental. Bertrand confounded himself in reverences, awaiting the end of a speech which he did not comprehend; but luckily for Virginie, the bell rang. "There's Auguste!" she cried, while Bertrand went to the door. Thereupon there was a great commotion in the salon. Virginie rose, all ready to rush to the door, glaring at the blonde lady with an expression of defiance. The latter, too, had risen; but she did not look at Virginie, and did her utmost to maintain a calm and indifferent attitude.