up at a quicker pace than usual. She gained the landing at the moment when Montalais, as in all scenes of surpiises, shut the closet by leaning with her back against the door.
"Ah!" cried Mme. de St. Remy, "you are here, are you, Louise?"
"Yes, madame," replied she, more pale than if she had committed a great crime.
"Well, well!"
"Pray be seated, madame," said Montalais, offering her a chair, which she placed so that the back was toward the closet.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle Aure — thank you. Come, my child, be quick."
"Where do you wish me to go, madame?"
"Why, home, to be sure; have you not to prepare your toilet?"
"What did you say?" cried Montalais, hastening to affect surprise, so fearful was she that Louise would in some way commit herself.
"You don't know the news, then?" said Mme. de St. Remy.
"What news, madame, is it possible for two girls to learn up in this dovecote?"
"What, have you seen nobody?"
"Madame, you talk in enigmas, and you torment us at a slow tire!" cried Montalais, who, terrified at seeing Louise become paler and paler, did not know to what saint to put up her vows.
At length she caught an eloquent look of her companion, one of those looks which would convey intelligence to a brick wall. Louise directed her attention to a hat — Raoul's unlucky hat, which was set out in all its feathery splendor upon the table.
Montalais sprung toward it, and, seizing it with her left hand, passed it behind her into the right, concealing it ⟨as⟩ she was speaking.
"Well," said Mme. de St. Remy, "a courier has arrived, announcing the approach of the king. There, mesdemoi- selles; there is something to make you put on your best looks."
"Quick, quick!" cried Montalais. "Follow madame, your mother, Louise; and leave me to get ready my dress of ceremony."
Louise arose; her mother took her by the hand, and led her out on to the landing.
