But before she could make answer there was a rap at the door.
It opened, and Brutus stood in the doorway.
"Citizen," he announced, in his sour tones, "there is another woman below asking to see you." La Boulaye started, as again his thoughts flew to Suzanne, and a dull flush crept into his pale cheeks and mounted to his brow.

Cecile's eyes were upon him, her glance hardening as she observed these signs.

Bitter enough had it been to endure his coldness whilst she had imagined that it sprang from the austerity of his nature and the absorption of his soul in matters political.

But now that it seemed she might have cause to temper her bitterness with jealousy her soul was turned to gall.
"What manner of woman, Brutus ?" he asked after a second's pause.
"Tall, pale, straight, black hair, black eyes, silk gown--and savours the aristocrat a league off," answered Brutus.
"Your official seems gifted with a very comprehensive eye," said Cecile tartly.
But La Boulaye paid no heed to her.

The flush deepened on his face, then faded again, and he grew oddly pale.