She led him into the study where my father sat, and left them together and
then joined us in the kitchen once more.
"I declare!" said Rosa. "Think of the Breton calling on us! I thought he
hated father since that day he discharged him from the factory two or three
years ago."
"The Breton knows very well that when your father got rid of him he well
deserved it," said Teresa, as she adjusted her spectacles and settled down
to her knitting.
My father did not keep him long. From the kitchen we could hear the door
open and my father's voice bidding the Breton a kindly "good night"
Evidently the interview, although short, had been quite a cordial one.
"Go, tell the Breton to come into the kitchen, Lisita," said Teresa.
I wondered as I saw him enter with such a humble, frank air, and with a new
look of peace that seemed almost to beautify the brutalized face.
"Mademoiselle Paula," he said as he stopped in the middle of our kitchen,
"I wish to say a word or two."
"To me alone?" said Paula rising.
He hesitated a moment. "No," he said finally, "I think it's better to say
it to you before everybody here. Do you remember how you spoke to me on the
afternoon of the great snow? I don't remember very well what you said.
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