They had been more than a month in their new home. The routine of life had grown familiar to them; they knew the outsides, at least, of all the neighbouring shops; they had walked together to the Arc de Triomphe on the one side, and to the Rond Point on the other; they had driven to the Bois de Boulogne, and done some little sight-seeing beside. They had done all, in short, to which Mrs. Costello's strength was at present equal, and had come to a little pause, waiting for warmer weather, and for the renewal of health, which they hoped sunshine would bring her.
One afternoon Claudine had been obliged to go out, and the little apartment was unusually quiet. Mrs. Costello, tired with a morning walk, had dropped into a doze; and Lucia sat by the window, her work on her lap, and her eyes idly following the constant succession of carriages down below. To tell the truth, she constantly outraged Claudine's sense of propriety, by insisting on having one little crevice uncurtained, where she could look out into the free air; and to-day she was making use of the privilege, for want of anything more interesting indoors. She had no fear of being disturbed, for they had no visitors; in all Paris, there was not one person they knew, unless--. Percy had been there a great deal formerly, she knew, and might be there now, but he would not know where to find them if he wished it; no one could possibly come to-day. And yet the first interruption that came in the midst of the drowsy, sunny silence, was a ring at the door-bell. Lucia raised her head in surprise, and listened. Mrs. Costello slept on. Who could it be? not Claudine, for she had the key. Must she go and open the door? It seemed so, since there was no one else; and while she hesitated there was another ring, a little louder than the first.
She got up, put down her work, and went towards the door. "I wish Claudine would come," she said to herself; but Claudine was not likely to come yet, and meanwhile somebody was waiting.
"I suppose I shall have a flood of French poured over me," she thought dolorously; but there was clearly no help.
She went to the door, and opened it; a gentleman stood there--a gentleman! She uttered one little cry--