"She has gone again ?" asked Marguerite.
"Yes, madame, in the carriage; she said it was arranged." "Quite right," said Marguerite sharply.

"Serve the dinner." Two days afterward there came a letter from Prudence, and for a fortnight Marguerite seemed to have got rid of her mysterious gloom, for which she constantly asked my forgiveness, now that it no longer existed.

Still, the carriage did not return.
"How is it that Prudence does not send you back your carriage ?" I asked one day.
"One of the horses is ill, and there are some repairs to be done.

It is better to have that done while we are here, and don't need a carriage, than to wait till we get back to Paris." Prudence came two days afterward, and confirmed what Marguerite had said.

The two women went for a walk in the garden, and when I joined them they changed the conversation.