'Was it not open to the skies--with those two windows in front, and that balcony ?' Max's excitement kindled.
"Madame, I must see this _appartement_! May I mount now--at once ?" But the matter was no such light one.

Madame shook her head.

'Ah, that was not possible!' 'Why not ?' 'Ah, well, there was the _concierge_! The _concierge_ was out.' 'But the _concierge_ would return ?' 'Oh yes! It was true he would return!' The little woman cast a wistful eye on the door of her own room.
'At what hour ?' 'Ah! That was a question!' 'This morning ?' 'Possibly!' 'This afternoon ?' 'Possibly!' 'But not for a certainty ?' 'Nothing was entirely certain.' Anger broke through Max's disappointment.

Without a word he turned on his heel and strode down the hall with the air of an offended prince.
The woman watched him with an expressionless face until he reached the door, then something--perhaps his youth, perhaps his brave carriage, perhaps his defiant disappointment--moved her.
"Monsieur!" she called.
He stopped.
"Monsieur, if it is absolutely necessary that you see the _appartement_--" "It is.

Absolutely necessary." Max ran back.
"Then, monsieur, I will conduct you up-stairs." The suggestion was greedily seized upon.