She came flying downstairs in her pretty silken deshabille, with her hair
streaming, and flung her arm round her aunt's neck.
"Ma chatte, where have you been?"
"On the terrace."
"Fi donc, menteuse! I saw you and my father land at the west stairs, five
minutes ago."
"We had been looking at the fire."
"And never offered to take me with you! What a greedy pig!"
"Indeed, dearest, it is no scene for little girls to look upon."
"And when I am grown up what shall I have to talk about if I miss all the
great sights?"
"Come to your room, love. You will see only too much from your windows. I
am going to your mother."
"Ce n'est pas la peine. She is in one of her tempers, and has locked
herself in."
"No matter. She will see me."
"Je m'en doute. She came home in a coach-and-four nearly two hours ago,
with Monsieur de Malfort; and I think they must have quarrelled. They bade
each other good night so uncivilly; but he was more huffed than mother."
"Where were you that you know so much?"
"In the gallery. Did I not tell you I shouldn't be able to sleep? I went
into the gallery for coolness, and then I heard the coach in the courtyard,
and the doors opened, and I listened.
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