d Georges's
carriage rolling through the courtyard, he had a feeling of discomfort
at the thought of Madame Fromont passing her evenings entirely alone.
Poor woman! Suppose what Planus said were true!

Suppose Georges really had a second establishment! Oh, it would be
frightful!

Thereupon, instead of beginning to work, he would go softly downstairs
and ask if Madame were visible, deeming it his duty to keep her company.

The little girl was always in bed, but the little cap, the blue shoes,
were still lying in front of the fire. Claire was either reading or
working, with her silent mother beside her, always rubbing or dusting
with feverish energy, exhausting herself by blowing on the case of her
watch, and nervously taking the same thing up and putting it down again
ten times in succession, with the obstinate persistence of mania.
Nor was honest Risler a very entertaining companion; but that did not
prevent the young woman from welcoming him kindly. She knew all that was
said about Sidonie in the factory; and although she did not believe half
of it, the sight of the poor man, whom his wife left alone so often,
moved her heart to pity. Mutual compassion formed the basis of that
placid friendship, and nothing could be more touching than these two
deserted ones, one pitying the other and each trying to divert the
other's thoughts.

Seated at the small, brightly lighted table in the centre of the salon,
Risler would gradually yield to the influence of the warmth of the
fire and the harmony of his surroundings. He found there articles of
furniture with which he had been familiar for twenty years, the portrait
of his former employer; and his dear Madame Chorche, bending over some
little piece of needle work at his side, seemed to him even younger and
more lovable among all those old souvenirs. From time to time she would
rise to go and look at the child sleeping in the adjoining room, whose
soft breathing they could hear in the intervals of silence. Without
fully realizing it, Risler felt more comfortable and warmer there than
in his own apartment; for on certain days those attractive rooms, where
the doors were forever being thrown open for hurried exits or returns,
gave him the impression of a hall without doors or windows, open to
the four winds. His rooms were a camping-ground; this was a home. A
care-taking hand caused order and refinement to reign everywhere. The
chairs seemed to be talking together in undertones,