She went on chattering thus to put off what she had really come to say.  Her heart was beating so fast that its throbs could be seen under the embroidered front of the bodice which fitted her so smoothly.  She wondered how Madame d’Argy would receive the suggestion she was about to make.

She went on:  “I dressed myself in my best to-day because I am so happy.”

Madame d’Argy’s long tortoise-shell knitting-needles stopped.

“I am glad to hear it, my dear,” she said, coldly, “I am glad anybody can be happy.  There are so many of us who are sad.”

“But why are you pleased?” asked Fred, looking at her, as if by some instinct he understood that he had something to do with it.

“Our prodigal has returned,” answered Giselle, with a little air of satisfaction, very artificial, however, for she could hardly breathe, so great was her fear and her emotion.  “My house is in the garb of rejoicing.”

“The prodigal?  Do you mean your husband?” said Madame d’Argy, maliciously.

“Oh!  I despair of him,” replied Giselle, lightly.  “No, I speak of a prodigal who did not go far, and who made haste to repent.  I am speaking of Jacqueline.”

There was complete silence.  The knitting-needles ticked rapidly, a slight flush rose on the dark cheeks of Fred.

“All I beg,” said Madame d’Argy, “is that you will not ask me to eat the fatted calf in her honor.  The comings and going of Mademoiselle de Nailles have long ceased to have the slightest interest for me.”

“They have for Fred at any rate; he has just proved it, I should say,” replied Giselle.

By this time the others were as much embarrassed as Giselle.  She saw it, and went on quickly: 

“Their names are together in everybody’s mouth; you can not hinder it.”

“I regret it deeply-and allow me to make one remark:  it seems to me you show a want of tact such as I should never have imagined in telling us—­”

Giselle read in Fred’s eyes, which were steadily fixed on her, that he was, on that point, of his mother’s opinion.  She went on, however, still pretending to blunder.

“Forgive me—­but I have been so anxious about you ever since I heard there was to be a second meeting—­”

“A second meeting!” screamed Madame d’Argy, who, as she read no paper but the Gazette de France, or occasionally the Debats, knew nothing of all the rumors that find their echo in the daily papers.

“Oh, ‘mon Dieu’!  I thought you knew—­”

“You need not frighten my mother,” said Fred, almost angrily; “Monsieur de Cymier has written a letter which puts an end to our quarrel.  It is the letter of a man of honor apologizing for having spoken lightly, for having repeated false rumors without verifying them—­in short, retracting all that he had said that reflected in any way on Mademoiselle de Nailles, and authorizing me, if I think best, to make public his retraction.  After that we can have nothing more to say to each other.”