Immediately the town of Alencon, speedily informed from the farther end of the rue de Saint-Blaise to the gate of Seez of this precipitate return, accompanied by singular circumstances, was perturbed throughout its viscera, both public and domestic.  Cooks, shopkeepers, street passengers, told the news from door to door; thence it rose to the upper regions.  Soon the words:  “Mademoiselle Cormon has returned!” burst like a bombshell into all households.  At that moment Jacquelin was descending from his wooden seat (polished by a process unknown to cabinet-makers), on which he perched in front of the carriole.  He opened the great green gate, round at the top, and closed in sign of mourning; for during Mademoiselle Cormon’s absence the evening assemblies did not take place.  The faithful invited the Abbe de Sponde to their several houses; and Monsieur de Valois paid his debt by inviting him to dine at the Marquis d’Esgrignon’s.  Jacquelin, having opened the gate, called familiarly to Penelope, whom he had left in the middle of the street.  That animal, accustomed to this proceeding, turned in of herself, and circled round the courtyard in a manner to avoid injuring the flower-bed.  Jacquelin then took her bridle, and led the carriage to the portico.

“Mariette!” cried Mademoiselle Cormon.

“Mademoiselle!” exclaimed Mariette, who was occupied in closing the gate.

“Has the gentleman arrived?”

“No, mademoiselle.”

“Where’s my uncle?”

“He is at church, mademoiselle.”

Jacquelin and Josette were by this time on the first step of the portico, holding out their hands to manoeuvre the exit of their mistress from the carriole as she pulled herself up by the sides of the vehicle and clung to the curtains.  Mademoiselle then threw herself into their arms; because for the last two years she dared not risk her weight on the iron step, affixed to the frame of the carriage by a horrible mechanism of clumsy bolts.

When Mademoiselle Cormon reached the level of the portico she looked about her courtyard with an air of satisfaction.

“Come, come, Mariette, leave that gate alone; I want you.”

“There’s something in the wind,” whispered Jacquelin, as Mariette passed the carriole.

“Mariette, what provisions have you in the house?” asked Mademoiselle Cormon, sitting down on the bench in the long antechamber like a person overcome with fatigue.

“I haven’t anything,” replied Mariette, with her hands on her hips.  “Mademoiselle knows very well that during her absence Monsieur l’abbe dines out every day.  Yesterday I went to fetch him from Mademoiselle Armande’s.”

“Where is he now?”

“Monsieur l’abbe?  Why, at church; he won’t be in before three o’clock.”

“He thinks of nothing! he ought to have told you to go to market.  Mariette, go at once; and without wasting money, don’t spare it; get all there is that is good and delicate.  Go to the diligence office and see if you can send for pates; and I want shrimps from the Brillante.  What o’clock is it?”