NoÉmi had just entered Mme. Mauperin's drawing-room followed by her governess. She looked uncomfortable and ill at ease, almost shy, in fact, but on glancing round she appeared to be somewhat reassured. She advanced to speak to Mme. Mauperin, who kissed her. RenÉe then embraced her, and, joking and laughing all the time, proceeded to take off her friend's cape and hat.

"Ah, I'm forgetting," she exclaimed, turning the dainty white hat trimmed with pink flowers round on her hand, "let me introduce M. Denoisel again. You have met him before in the old days—that sounds as though we were quite aged, doesn't it?—and he is our theatrical manager, our professor of elocution, our prompter—scene shifter—everything."

"I have not forgotten how kind M. Denoisel used to be to me when I was a little girl," and NoÉmi, flushing with emotion as her thoughts went back to her childhood, held out her hand somewhat awkwardly and with such timidity that her fingers all clung together.

"Oh, but what a pretty costume!" continued RenÉe, walking round her. "You look sweet," and then patting her own taffeta dress, which was rather the worse for wear, she held out her skirt and made a low reverence. "You'll make a rather pretty Mathilde—I shall be jealous, you know.—But look, mamma," she continued, drawing herself up to her full height. "I told you so—she makes me quite small.—Now, then—you see you are much taller than I am." As she spoke she placed herself side by side with NoÉmi and, putting her arm round her waist, led her to the glass and put her shoulder against her friend's. "There, now!" she exclaimed.

The governess was keeping in the background at the other end of the salon. She was looking at some pictures in a book that she had only dared to half open.

"Come, my dears, shall we begin to read the play?" said Mme. Mauperin. "It's no use waiting for Henri; he will only come to the last rehearsals when the actresses are well on."

"Oh, just now, mamma, let us talk first. Come and sit here, NoÉmi. There—we have a lot of little secrets, so many things that have happened since we last met to tell each other about—it is ages ago."

And RenÉe began prattling and chirping away with NoÉmi. Their conversation sounded like the fresh, clear, never-ending babbling of a brook, breaking off now and again in a peal of laughter and dying away in a whisper. NoÉmi, who was very guarded at first, soon gave herself up to the delight of confiding in her friend and of listening to this voice which brought back so many memories of the past. They asked each other, as one does after a long absence, about all that had happened and what they had each been doing. At the end of half an hour, to judge by their conversation, one would have said they were two young women who had suddenly become children again together.

"I go in for painting," said RenÉe, "what do you do? You used to have a beautiful voice."

"Oh, don't mention that," said NoÉmi. "They make me sing. Mamma insists on my singing at her big parties—and you've no idea how dreadful it is. When I see every one looking at me, a shiver runs through me. Oh, I'm so frightened—the first few times I burst out crying——"

"Well, we'll have a little refreshment now. I've saved a green apple for you that I was going to eat myself. I hope you still like green apples?"

"No, thanks, RenÉe dear, I'm not hungry, really."

"I say, Denoisel, what can you see that is so interesting—through that window?"

Denoisel was watching the Bourjot's footman in the garden. He had seen him dust the bench with a fine cambric handkerchief, spread the handkerchief over the green laths, sit down on it in a gingerly way in his red velvet breeches, cross his legs, take a cigar out of his pocket and light it. He was now looking at this man as he sat there smoking in an insolent, majestic way, glancing round at this small estate with the supercilious expression of a servant whose master lives in a mansion and owns a park.

"Why, nothing at all," said Denoisel, coming away from the window; "I was afraid of intruding."

"We have told each other all our secrets now; so you can come and talk to us."

"You know what time it is, RenÉe?" put in Mme. Mauperin. "If you want to begin the rehearsal to-day——"

"Oh, mamma, please—it's so warm to-day—and then, too, it's Friday."

"And the year began on a 13th," remarked Denoisel gravely.

"Ah!" said NoÉmi, looking at him with her trustful eyes.

"Don't listen to him—he's taking you in. He plays jokes of that kind on you all day long—Denoisel does. We'll rehearse next time you come, shall we?—there's plenty of time."

"As you like," answered NoÉmi.

"Very well, then; we'll take a holiday. Denoisel, be funny—at once. And if you are very funny—very, very funny—I'll give you a picture—one of my own——"

"Another?"

"Oh, well, you are polite—I work myself to death——"

"Mademoiselle," said Denoisel to NoÉmi, "you shall judge of the situation. I have now a picture of a mad-apple and a parsnip, and then to hang with that a slice of pumpkin and a piece of Brie cheese. There's a great deal of feeling, I know, of course, in such subjects; but all the same from the look of my room any one would take me for a private fruiterer."

"That's how men are, you see," said RenÉe gaily to NoÉmi. "They are all ungrateful, my dear—and to think that some day we shall have to marry. Do you know that we are quite old maids—what do you think of that? Twenty years old—oh, how quickly time goes, to be sure! We think we shall never be eighteen, and then, no sooner are we really eighteen than it's all over and we can't stay at that age. Well, it can't be helped. Oh, next time you come, bring some music with you and we'll play duets. I don't know whether I could now."

"And we shall rehearse—quand?" asked Denoisel.

"In Normandy!" answered RenÉe, indulging in that kind of joke which for the last few years has been in favour with society people, and which had its origin in the workshop and the theatre. NoÉmi looked perplexed, as though she had not caught the sense of the word she had just heard.

"Yes," said RenÉe, "Caen is in Normandy. Ah, you don't go in for word-endings? I used to have a mania for them some time ago. I was quite unbearable with it—wasn't I, Denoisel? And so you go out a great deal. Tell me about your balls."

NoÉmi did as she was requested, speaking freely and getting gradually more and more animated. She smiled as she spoke, and as her restraint wore off her movements and gestures were graceful. It seemed as if she had expanded under the influence of this air of liberty, here with RenÉe in this gay, cheerful drawing-room.

At four o'clock the governess rose as if moved by machinery.

"It is time we started, mademoiselle," she said. "There is a dinner-party, you know, at Sannois, and you will want time to dress."