"Clotilde, dear, I should be glad if you would put the fire before the screen; it is so much too warm." She pushed her chair back and shaded her face with her hand.

"I think the warmer is growing weather outside, is it--is it not ?" The struggles of a wounded bird could not have been more piteous.
Monsieur Grandissime sought to speak.

Clotilde, too, nerved by the sight of her mother's embarrassment, came to her support, and she and the visitor spoke in one breath.
"Maman, if Monsieur--pardon--" "Madame Nancanou, the--pardon, Mademoiselle--" "I have presumed to call upon you," resumed M.Grandissime, addressing himself now to both ladies at once, "to see if I may enlist you in a purely benevolent undertaking in the interest of one who has been unfortunate--a common acquaintance--" "Common acquaint--" interrupted Aurora, with a hostile lighting of her eyes.
"I believe so--Professor Frowenfeld." M.Grandissme saw Clotilde start, and in her turn falsely accuse the fire by shading her face: but it was no time to stop.

"Ladies," he continued, "please allow me, for the sake of the good it may effect, to speak plainly and to the point." The ladies expressed acquiescence by settling themselves to hear.
"Professor Frowenfeld had the extraordinary misfortune this morning to incur the suspicion of having entered a house for the purpose of--at least, for a bad design--" "He is innocent!" came from Clotilde, against her intention; Aurora covertly put out a hand, and Clotilde clutched it nervously.
"As, for example, robbery," said the self-recovered Aurora, ignoring Clotilde's look of protestation.
"Call it so," responded M.Grandissime.

"Have you heard at whose house this was ?" "No, sir." "It was at the house of Palmyre Philosophe." "Palmyre Philosophe!" exclaimed Aurora, in low astonishment.