There was another knock.

“Who is there?” asked Violette.

“I; your friend.”

“My friend?”

“Yes; the Countess. I come with M. Christian's consent and am the bearer of a note from him.”

“Oh, then,” said Violette, who knew the voice and recollected our conversation; “you are welcome.” Upon which she opened the door.

The Countess came in and carefully closed the door.

“Are you alone?” she asked.

“Quite alone.”

“And your maid?”

“She is at the dressmaker's.”

“Ah! so much the better; because as I made sure of finding you here, and wishing to spend a few moments with you, I sent away my carriage. I shall take a cab when I leave you. Will you grant me an hour or two in your company?”

“Yes; with the greatest pleasure.”

“Are you pleased to see me?”

“Much pleased.”

“You little ungrateful one!”

Meanwhile the Countess took off her veil, bonnet and cloak and appeared in a long dress of black satin, buttoned all the way up with rose coloured buttons. She wore earrings of the same kind of coral.

“I ungrateful?” said Violette. “Why do you call me ungrateful?”

“Why? You went and entrusted yourself to a young man, instead of having recourse to me.”

“I did not know your name, nor your address or number. Don't you recollect that you were to come today to see me at: two o'clock at the milliner's shop?”

“I did go there, but the bird had flown. It is true that you did not lose by changing your cage. I congratulate you on the one you occupy now.”

“Do you think this one pretty?” asked Violette.

“Delightful! When a painter sets himself to decorating an apartment, he does it with such taste!” Then approaching Violette, she said: “Now, dear little one, I have not even kissed you.”