d the entrance with her open arms which she leant
against the two doorposts, and grumbled:

"'What do you want?' 'Are you Madame Melani?' 'Yes.' 'I am the Viscounte
de Toumeville.' '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
take care 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, Melani 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 his
heart for you.'

"My mother who did not suspect any trick, replied: 'Yes, go my dear.'
But a woman's voice cried out: 'Melani!'

"The fat 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 ordered a cheese omelette at two o'clock as a slight collation.'
And immediately she began to break the eggs into a salad bowl, and began
to whip them vigorously, while I went out onto the landing and pulled
the bell, so as to announce my official arrival. Melani 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 sign.

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

"Sitting, almost lying in a large armchair, his legs wrapped in
blankets, with his hands, his long, white hands, over the arms of the
chair, he was waiting death with Biblical dignity. His white beard fell
onto 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, two stou