other, who did not suspect any trick, replied: 'Yes, go, my dear.'
But a woman's voice cried out: 'Melanie!'

"The servant ran out and said: 'What do you want, Mademoiselle Claire?'
'The omelette; quickly.' 'In a minute, mademoiselle.' And coming back to
us, she explained this summons.

"They had ordered a cheese omelette at two o'clock as a slight
collation. And she at once began to break the eggs into a salad bowl,
and to whip them vigorously, while I went out on the landing and pulled
the bell, so as to formally announce my arrival. Melanie opened the door
to me, and made me sit down in an ante-room, while she went to tell my
uncle that I had come; then she came back and asked me to go in, while
the abbe hid behind the door, so that he might appear at the first
signal.

"I was certainly very much surprised at the sight of my uncle, for he
was very handsome, very solemn and very elegant, the old rake.

"Sitting, almost lying, in a large armchair, his legs wrapped in
blankets, his hands, his long, white hands, over the arms of the chair,
he was waiting for death with the dignity of a patriarch. His white
beard fell on his chest, and his hair, which was also white, mingled
with it on his cheeks.

"Standing behind his armchair, as if to defend him against me, were two
young women, who looked at me with bold eyes. In their petticoats and
morning wrappers, with bare arms, with coal black hair twisted in a knot
on the nape of their neck, with embroidered, Oriental slippers, which
showed their ankles and silk stockings, they looked like the figures
in some symbolical painting, by the side of the dying man. Between the
easy-chair and the bed, there was a table covered with a white cloth,
on which two plates, two glasses, two forks and two knives, were waiting
for the cheese omelette which had been ordered some time before of
Melanie.

"My uncle said in a weak, almost breathless, but clear voice:

"'Good-morning, my child; it is rather late in the day to come and see
me; our acquaintanceship will not last long.' I stammered out, 'It was
not my fault, uncle:' 'No; I know that,' he replied. 'It is your father
and mother's fault more than yours. How are they?' 'Pretty well, thank
you. When they heard that you were ill, they sent me to ask after you.'
'Ah! Why did they not come themselves?'

"I looked up at the two girls and said gently: 'It is not their fault if
they could not come, uncle. But it would be difficult for m