"La, Sir!" Françoise would answer, "I'm bound to come . . ."
"Well, well; quick, say what you want. I wonder why this always happens just when I am particularly busy? . . . Well?"—and Monsieur de Villenave would raise his great eyes to heaven with an expression of despair, folding his hands and uttering a sigh of resignation.
Françoise for her part was familiar with the whole performance, and waited quietly till Monsieur de Villenave had duly completed his pantomime and his stage asides. Then, when he had done,
"Sir," she would say, "it is Monsieur So-and-so, who has come to pay you a little visit."
"I am not at home; so be off with you."
Françoise would close the door slowly and gradually; she knew the way of it.
"Wait a moment, Françoise," Monsieur de Villenave would call after her.
"Sir?"
Françoise would push the door open again.
"You say it is Monsieur So-and-so, Françoise, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, well! ask him to come in; then, if he stays too long, you can come and tell me I am wanted. Off with you, my girl."
Françoise would release the door.
"Monstrous, monstrous, by the Lord!" Monsieur de Villenave would grumble to himself; "I never go disturbing people, yet they must always be disturbing me."
Françoise would open the door once more, to admit the visitor.
"Ah, good-day, my dear friend," Monsieur de Villenave would exclaim, "Welcome, welcome, come in. It is ages since I have seen you. Sit down, do."
"What on?" the visitor would ask.
"Why, on whatever you like, egad! . . . on the sofa."
"Willingly, only . . ."
Monsieur de Villenave would glance at the sofa.
"Ah, true, true! it is full up with books," he would say, "Well then, draw up an armchair."
"I would with pleasure, but you see . . ."
Monsieur de Villenave would make a survey of his armchairs.
"True again!" he would go on; "but what would you have, my dear fellow? I don't know where to put my books. Take an ordinary chair.
"I should be delighted, but,—but . . ."
"But what? you are in a hurry?"
"Not I; but I cannot see a vacant chair any more than I can an unoccupied armchair."
"Monstrous, monstrous!" Monsieur de Villenave would groan, lifting his two arms to heaven; "monstrous! but wait a moment."
Then he would leave his place, grumbling and groaning, carefully remove from a chair the books that obstructed it, put these on the floor, where they added yet another mole-hill to twenty or thirty other similar mole-hills encumbering the floor of the room; after which he would bring the said chair to the side of his own armchair which stood at the chimney-corner.
This is how you managed to sit down in this singular room. Now I must detail the circumstances under which you could walk about in it.
It would sometimes occur that, when, the visitor came in, and after the indispensable preamble we have just described, had finally sat down, it would sometimes occur I say that, by a twofold chance, the door of the bed recess and the door of the passage, which led to the closet behind the recess, were both open at the same time. Then, by this double combination of chances, through these two open doorways, it became possible to see hanging in the recess a pastel drawing representing a young and pretty woman holding a letter in her hand, the picture being lighted by the gleam of daylight which entered by the passage window.
Then, unless the visitor had no idea of art whatever,—and it was seldom Monsier de Villenave's friends were not artistic in one direction or another,—he would spring up, crying:
"Ah, sir! what a perfectly delightful pastel"—and he would make as if to pass from the fireside to the recess.
"Wait, wait!" Monsieur de Villenave would protest. "One moment!"
Indeed, on closer inspection, you would observe that two or three mole-hills of books, tumbling one over the other, formed a sort of irregularly shaped counterscarp that had to be cleared in order to reach the recess.
Then Monsieur de Villenave would rise, and walking first, would open a narrow
