The worthy housekeeper was greatly excited, and not without cause.
As there were no relations, it had been decided that M. de
Fondege, the count's oldest friend, should do the honors of the
mansion to the persons invited to attend the funeral; and he had
sworn that he would be under arms at daybreak, and that they might
positively depend upon him. But the hour fixed for the ceremony
was approaching, several persons had already arrived, and yet M.
de Fondege had not put in an appearance. "It is
incomprehensible," exclaimed Madame Leon. "The General is usually
punctuality personified. He must have met with some accident."
And in her anxiety she stationed herself at the window, whence she
could command a view of the courtyard, carefully scrutinizing
every fresh arrival.
At last, about half-past nine o'clock, she suddenly exclaimed:
"Here he is! Do you hear, mademoiselle, here's the General!"
A moment later, indeed, there was a gentle rap at the door, and M.
de Fondege entered. "Ah, I'm late!" he exclaimed; "but, dash it
all! it's not my fault!" And, struck by Mademoiselle Marguerite's
immobility, he advanced and took her hand. "And you, my dear
little one, what is the matter with you?" he asked. "Have you
been ill? You are frightfully pale."
She succeeded in shaking off the torpor which was stealing over
her, and replied in a faint voice; "I am not ill, monsieur."
"So much the better, my dear child, so much the better.
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