During all this time, they were suffering intense anxiety at M. de
Chandore’s house. Ever since eight o’clock in the morning the two aunts,
the old gentleman, the marchioness, and M. Folgat had been assembled in
the dining-room, and were there waiting for the result of the interview.
Dionysia had only come down later; and her grandfather could not help
noticing that she had dressed more carefully than usual.
“Are we not going to see Jacques again?” she replied with a smile full
of confidence and joy.
She had actually persuaded herself that one word from Jacques would
suffice to convince the celebrated lawyer, and that he would reappear
triumphant on M. Magloire’s arm. The others did not share these
expectations. The two aunts, looking as yellow as their old laces, sat
immovable in a corner. The marchioness was trying to hide her tears; and
M. Folgat endeavored to look absorbed in a volume of engravings. M. de
Chandore, who possessed less self-control, walked up and down in the
room, repeating every ten minutes,--
“It is wonderful how long time seems when you are waiting!”
At ten o’clock no news had come.
“Could M. Magloire have forgotten his promise?” said Dionysia, becoming
anxious.
“No, he has not forgotten it,” replied a newcomer, M. Seneschal. It
was really the excellent mayor, who had met M. Magloire about an hour
before, and who now came to hear the news, for his own sake, as he said,
but especially for his wife’s sake, who was actually ill with anxiety.