am the Visconte
de Tourneville.' 'Ah! All right! Come in.' 'Well, the fact is, my mother
is downstairs with a priest.' 'Oh! All right; go and bring them up; but
be careful of the porter.'

"I went downstairs and came up again with my mother, who was followed by
the abbe, and I fancied that I heard other footsteps behind us. As soon
as we were in the kitchen, Melanie offered us chairs, and we all four sat
down to deliberate.

"'Is he very ill?' my mother asked. 'Oh! yes, madame; he will not be here
long.' 'Does he seem disposed to receive a visit from a priest?' 'Oh! I
do not think so.' 'Can I see him?' 'Well--yes madame--only
--only--those young ladies are with him.' 'What young ladies?'
'Why--why--his lady friends, of course.' 'Oh!' Mamma had grown
scarlet, and the Abbe Poivron had lowered his eyes.

"The affair began to amuse me, and I said: 'Suppose I go in first? I
shall see how he receives me, and perhaps I shall be able to prepare him
to receive you.'

"My mother, 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