The next day, when Amedee paid his visit to the Gerards, all they could talk of was the evening before.  Amedee spoke with the eloquence of a young man who had seen for the first time a finger-bowl at dessert.

Louise, while putting on her hat and getting her roll of music—­she gave lessons now upon the piano in boarding-schools—­was much interested in Madame Roger’s imposing beauty.  Mamma Gerard would have liked to know how the chicken-jelly was made; the old engraver listened with pleasure to the Colonel’s military anecdotes; while little Maria exacted a precise description of the toilettes of the three demoiselles Lantz, and turned up her nose disdainfully at them.

“Now, then, Amedee,” said the young girl, suddenly, as she looked at herself in a mirror that was covered with flyspecks, “tell me honestly, were these young ladies any prettier than I?”

“Do you see the coquette?” exclaimed Father Gerard, bursting into laughter without raising his eyes from his work.  “Do people ask such questions as that, Mademoiselle?”

There was a general gayety, but Amedee blushed without knowing why.  Oh! no, certainly those three young ladies in their Savoy-cake skirts and nougat waists were not as pretty as little Maria in her simple brown frock.  How she improved from day to day!  It seemed to Amedee as if he never had seen her before until this minute.  Where had she found that supple, round waist, that mass of reddish hair which she twisted upon the top of her head, that lovely complexion, that mouth, and those eyes that smiled with the artless tenderness of young flowers?

Mamma Gerard, while laughing like the others, scolded her daughter a little for her attack of feminine vanity, and then began to talk of Madame Roger in order to change the conversation.

Amedee did not cease to praise his friend.  He told how affectionate he was to his mother, how he resisted the military blood that burned in him, how graceful he was, and how, at eighteen years, he did the honor of the drawing-room and table with all the manner of a grand seigneur.

Maria listened attentively.

“You have promised to bring him here, Amedee,” said the spoiled child, with a serious air.  “I should like very much to see him once.”

Amedee repeated his promise; but on his way to the Lycee, for his afternoon class, he recalled the incident of the pretty maid and the name of Zoe Mirilton, and, seized with some scruples, he asked himself whether he ought to introduce his friend to the young Gerard girls.  At first this idea made him uneasy, then he thought that it was ridiculous.  Was not Maurice a good-hearted young man and well brought up?  Had he not seen him conduct himself with tact and reserve before Colonel Lantz’s daughters?

Some days later Maurice reminded him of the promised visit to the Gerards, and Amedee presented him to his old friends.

Louise was not at home; she had been going about teaching for some time to increase the family’s resources, for the engraver was more red-faced than ever, and obliged to change the number of his spectacles every year, and could not do as much work as formerly.