An old servant slept on a bench before the door, smiling in his dreams.
Camors waked him, inquired for the master of the house, and was ushered into a vestibule.

Thence he entered a charming apartment, where a young lady in a short skirt and round hat was arranging bouquets in Chinese vases.
She turned at the noise of the opening door, and Camors saw--Madame de Tecle! As he saluted her with an air of astonishment and doubt, she looked fixedly at him with her large eyes.

He spoke first, with more of hesitation than usual.
"Pardon me, Madame, but I inquired for Monsieur des Rameures." "He is at the farm, but will soon return.

Be kind enough to wait." She pointed to a chair, and seated herself, pushing away with her foot the branches that strewed the floor.
"But, Madame, in the absence of Monsieur des Rameures may I have the honor of speaking with his niece ?" The shadow of a smile flitted over Madame de Tecle's brown but charming face.

"His niece ?" she said: "I am his niece." "You I Pardon me, Madame, but I thought--they said--I expected to find an elderly--a--person--that is, a respectable" he hesitated, then added simply--"and I find I am in error." Madame de Tecle seemed completely unmoved by this compliment.
"Will you be kind enough, Monsieur," she said, "to let me know whom I have the honor of receiving ?" "I am Monsieur de Camors." "Ah! Then I have excuses also to make.