Chateau of Prince Polignac | Page 9

in his usual manner, but
said nothing whatever about the visit to Polignac. He was very kind to
Mimmy, and very courteous to her mother, but did not appear to be at
all more particular than usual. Indeed, it might be a question whether he
was not less so. As she had entered the room Mrs. Thompson had said
to herself that, perhaps, after all, it would be better that there should be
nothing more thought about it; but before the four of five courses were
over, she was beginning to feel a little disappointed.
And now the fruit was on the table, after the consumption of which it
was her practice to retire. It was certainly open to her to ask M.
Lacordaire to take tea with her that evening, as she had done on former
occasions; but she felt that she must not do this now, considering the
immediate circumstances of the case. If any further steps were to be
taken, they must be taken by him, and not by her;-- or else by Mimmy,
who, just as her mother was slowly consuming her last grapes, ran
round to the back of M. Lacordaire's chair, and whispered something
into his ear. It may be presumed that Mrs. Thompson did not see the
intention of the movement in time to arrest it, for she did nothing till
the whispering had been whispered; and then she rebuked the child,
bade her not to be troublesome, and with more than usual austerity in

her voice, desired her to get herself ready to go up stairs to their
chamber.
As she spoke she herself rose from her chair, and made her final little
bow to the table, and her other final little bow and smile to M.
Lacordaire; but this was certain to all who saw it, that the smile was not
as gracious as usual.
As she walked forth, M. Lacordaire rose from his chair--such being his
constant practice when she left the table; but on this occasion he
accompanied her to the door.
"And has madame decided," he asked, "whether she will permit me to
accompany her to the chateau?"
"Well, I really don't know," said Mrs. Thompson.
"Mees Meemy," continued M. Lacordaire, "is very anxious to see the
rock, and I may perhaps hope that Mees Lilian would be pleased with
such a little excursion. As for myself--" and then M. Lacordaire put his
hand upon his heart in a manner that seemed to speak more plainly than
he had ever spoken.
"Well, if the children would really like it, and--as you are so very
kind," said Mrs. Thompson; and so the matter was conceded.
"To-morrow afternoon?" suggested M. Lacordaire. But Mrs. Thompson
fixed on Saturday, thereby showing that she herself was in no hurry for
the expedition.
"Oh, I am so glad!" said Mimmy, when they had re-entered their own
room. "Mamma, do let me tell Lilian myself when I go up to the school
to-morrow!"
But mamma was in no humour to say much to her child on this subject
at the present moment. She threw herself back on her sofa in perfect
silence, and began to reflect whether she would like to sign her name in
future as Fanny Lacordaire, instead of Fanny Thompson. It certainly
seemed as though things were verging towards such a necessity. A
marchand! But a marchand of what? She had an instinctive feeling that
the people in the hotel were talking about her and M. Lacordaire, and
was therefore more than ever averse to asking any one a question.
As she went up to the school the next afternoon, she walked through
more of the streets of Le Puy than was necessary, and in every street
she looked at the names which she saw over the doors of the more
respectable houses of business. But she looked in vain. It might be that

M. Lacordaire was a marchand of so specially high a quality as to be
under no necessity to put up his name at all. Sir Hommajee Bommajee's
name did not appear over any door in Bombay;--at least, she thought
not.
And then came the Saturday morning. "We shall be ready at two," she
said, as she left the breakfast-table; "and perhaps you would not mind
calling for Lilian on the way."
M. Lacordaire would be delighted to call anywhere for anybody on
behalf of Mrs. Thompson; and then, as he got to the door of the salon,
he offered her his hand. He did so with so much French courtesy that
she could not refuse it, and then she felt that his purpose was more
tender than ever it had been. And why not, if this was the destiny which
Fate had prepared for her?
Mrs. Thompson would rather have