I turned the door-handle, and in an instant had crossed the fatal threshold, closed the door behind me, and stood in the presence of Madame Pelet.
Gracious heavens! The first view of her seemed to confirm my worst apprehensions.

There she sat, dressed out in a light green muslin gown, on her head a lace cap with flourishing red roses in the frill; her table was carefully spread; there were fruit, cakes, and coffee, with a bottle of something--I did not know what.

Already the cold sweat started on my brow, already I glanced back over my shoulder at the closed door, when, to my unspeakable relief, my eye, wandering mildly in the direction of the stove, rested upon a second figure, seated in a large fauteuil beside it.

This was a woman, too, and, moreover, an old woman, and as fat and as rubicund as Madame Pelet was meagre and yellow; her attire was likewise very fine, and spring flowers of different hues circled in a bright wreath the crown of her violet-coloured velvet bonnet.
I had only time to make these general observations when Madame Pelet, coming forward with what she intended should be a graceful and elastic step, thus accosted me: "Monsieur is indeed most obliging to quit his books, his studies, at the request of an insignificant person like me--will Monsieur complete his kindness by allowing me to present him to my dear friend Madame Reuter, who resides in the neighbouring house--the young ladies' school." "Ah!" thought I, "I knew she was old," and I bowed and took my seat.
Madame Reuter placed herself at the table opposite to me.
"How do you like Belgium, Monsieur ?" asked she, in an accent of the broadest Bruxellois.

I could now well distinguish the difference between the fine and pure Parisian utterance of M.Pelet, for instance, and the guttural enunciation of the Flamands.