Here was an opportunity at once for Marsac to declare himself, if he had a spark of tenderness for her. The tenderness, amounting to adoration, was there; but Marsac--the ready, the witty, the glib, the daring--was silent and abashed in the presence of the master-passion. His silence, which was really one of deep emotion, was naturally misunderstood by Delphine. Just as he had nerved himself to take what he thought a desperate chance, by telling her of his love, her face hardened, she deliberately turned her back to him, and picking up some fancy-work on the table, seated herself at it. There was nothing left for Marsac but the newspaper which Fontaine had dropped. He took it, and for half an hour no sound was heard except the rattle of the sheets as they were turned. Delphine stitched in silent anger and disappointment. It seemed fated that all the persons whom Marsac and Fontaine particularly did not wish to see at M. Duval’s house should turn up that morning, for within five minutes of Marsac’s and Delphine’s latest misunderstanding a footman appeared to announce another startling arrival. The man usually maintained the stolid countenance of his tribe, but on this occasion he wore a grin like a rat-trap. “M’sieu Marsac,” he said, almost laughing in Marsac’s gloomy face, “here’s a--person--” “A _lady_, if you please,” proclaimed a loud voice, as Madame Schmid marched in, shoving the footman unceremoniously out of the way. Poor Marsac’s nerves were sufficiently unstrung by Uncle Maurice’s arrival, and Madame Schmid’s seemed likely to finish him. But she was such a good-hearted creature, and in spite of having, figuratively, dragged Fontaine and himself around by the hair of their heads, had washed and scrubbed for them so faithfully, that Marsac could not find it in his heart to receive her coldly. As for Madame Schmid, Marsac’s delightful impudence had won its way into her honest heart, and she had come to do him a great service. Her errand not being a professional one, she wore a gorgeous red bonnet, all flowers; a green mantle, all spangles; a purple gown, all stripes; and, with a yellow parasol, looked something like a bird of paradise. “Here you are,” she cried, a broad smile on her handsome face. “Just as impudent as ever, I warrant. If I get out of this room without being kissed--” Delphine, looking on in amazement, became pale at this; while Marsac turned blue in the face. “I perceive I am in the way,” murmured Delphine, in a scarcely audible voice, and made for the door. “Mademoiselle--I implore--” Marsac got this far when Delphine slammed the door in his face. “Is the young lady jealous?” asked Madame Schmid, delightedly. “I am afraid not,” was Marsac’s dejected reply. “Well, M’sieu,” began Madame Schmid, with an air of importance, “I have come to tell you and that pretty boy Fontaine something you will like to hear. In the first place, Madame Fleury is coming here this morning.”