As soon as the bell was heard through the house, Michel Voss, who was waiting below with his wife in a quiet unusual manner, marshalled the way upstairs.  He had partly expected that Marie would join them below, and was becoming fidgety lest she should break away from her engagement.  He went first, and then followed Adrian and Madame Voss together.  The accustomed guests were all ready, because it had come to be generally understood that this supper was to be as it were a supper of betrothal.  Madame Voss had on her black silk gown.  Michel had changed his coat and his cravat.  Adrian Urmand was exceedingly smart.  The dullest intellect could perceive that there was something special in the wind.  The two old ladies who were lodgers in the house came out from their rooms five minutes earlier than usual, and met the cortege from downstairs in the passage.

When Michel entered the room he at once looked round for Marie.  There she was standing at the soup-tureen with her back to the company.  But he could see that there hung down some ribbon from her waist, that her frock was not the one she had worn in the morning, and that in the article of her attire she had kept her word with him.  He was very awkward.  When one of the old ladies was about to seat herself in the chair next to Adrian—­in preparation for which it must be admitted that Marie had made certain wicked arrangements--Michel first by signs and afterwards with audible words, intended to be whispered, indicated to the lady that she was required to place herself elsewhere.  This was hard upon the lady, as her own table-napkin and a cup out of which she was wont to drink were placed at that spot.  Marie, standing at the soup-tureen, heard it all and became very spiteful.  Then her uncle called to her: 

‘Marie, my dear, are you not coming?’

‘Presently, uncle,’ replied Marie, in a clear voice, as she commenced to dispense the soup.

She ladled out all the soup without once turning her face towards the company, then stood for a few moments as if in doubt, and after that walked boldly up to her place.  She had intended to sit next to her uncle, opposite to her lover, and there had been her chair.  But Michel had insisted on bringing the old lady round to the seat that Marie had intended for herself, and so had disarranged all her plans.  The old lady had simpered and smiled and made a little speech to M. Urmand, which everybody had heard.  Marie, too, had heard it all.  But the thing had to be done, and she plucked up her courage and did it.  She placed herself next to her lover, and as she did so, felt that it was necessary that she should say something at the moment: 

’Here I am, Uncle Michel; but you’ll find you’ll miss me, before supper is over.’

‘There is somebody would much rather have you than his supper,’ said the horrid old lady opposite.

Then there was a pause, a terrible pause.