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of air into stones and minerals, and that the atoms scattered throughout illimitable space, form, by the varying speed of their orbits, all the substance of this material world.”
But Madame des Aubels was not listening. She had something on her mind, and to put an end to her suspense, she asked:
“How long have you been here?”
“I came with Maurice.”
“Well—that’s a nice thing!” said she, shaking her head. But the Angel continued with heavenly serenity:
“Everything in the Universe is circular, elliptical, or hyperbolic, and the same laws which rule the stars govern this grain of dust. In the original and native movement of its substance, my body is spiritual, but it may affect, as you perceive, this material state, by changing the rhythm of its elements.”
Having thus spoken he sat down in a chair on Madame des Aubels’ black stockings.
A clock struck outside.
“Good heavens, seven o’clock!” exclaimed Gilberte. “What am I to say to my husband? He thinks I am at that tea-party in the Rue de Rivoli. We are dining with the La Verdelières to-night. Go away immediately, Monsieur Arcade. I must get ready to go. I have not a second to lose.”
