He began again, as on the other evening, to clean house and establish a methodical disorder.

He slipped a cushion under the false disarray of the armchair, then he made roaring fires to have the rooms good and warm when she came.
But he was without impatience.

That silent promise which he had obtained, that Mme.

Chantelouve would not leave him panting this night, moderated him.

Now that his uncertainty was at an end, he no longer vibrated with the almost painful acuity which hitherto her malignant delays had provoked.