As she took it and turned to depart, another small hand was laid upon it and it was returned to the counter.

Something was said in a low-pitched undertone, and the two sisters--if Frowenfeld's guess was right--confronted each other.

For a single instant only they stood so; an earnest and hurried murmur of French words passed between them, and they turned together, bowed with great suavity, and were gone.
"The Cession is a mere temporary political manoeuvre!" growled M.
Fusilier.
Frowenfeld's merchant friend came from his place of waiting, and spoke twice before he attracted the attention of the bewildered apothecary.
"Good-day, Mr.Frowenfeld; I have been told that--" Joseph gazed after the two ladies crossing the street, and felt uncomfortable that the group of gossips did the same.

So did the black attendant who glanced furtively back.
"Good-day, Mr.Frowenfeld; I--" "Oh! how do you do, sir ?" exclaimed the apothecary, with great pleasantness, of face.

It seemed the most natural thing that they should resume their late conversation just where they had left off, and that would certainly be pleasant.