which to Philip Rondelet seemed very doubtful; and yet nothing could be more feminine than her face and figure, her well-modelled white gown and appropriate ornaments of yellow gold.
"Tell me, is Mr. Robert Feuardent among the guests? I heard I was to meet him to-night."
Robert Feuardent! Rondelet started at the name and glanced at the clock. It was nearly half-past six. At that moment the door-bell was violently rung, and immediately afterwards a servant whispered a message in Mrs. Harden's ear.
"Mr. Rondelet, a messenger has come for you, summoning you to a sick person; can you not send him for some other physician?"
Philip set down untasted the glass of wine he had raised to his lips, and said, "Tell the person that it is not possible for me to leave at present. He should summon another physician. Dr. N lives half a block from here."
In two minutes the man returned. "The gentleman says, sir, that he can wait, but that you will hardly like to keep a lady waiting in the carriage on such a night as this."
"Mrs. Harden, you must excuse me. Mademoiselle, I cannot express to you my regrets at being forced to lose the pleasure of knowing you better."
