"Madame," said the man-servant, reappearing at the end of half an
hour, "Madame Bijou is on her way, but you are not to expect little
Olympe. Your needle-woman, madame, is settled in life; she is
married--"
"More or less?" said Josepha.
"No, madame, really married. She is at the head of a very fine
business; she has married the owner of a large and fashionable shop,
on which they have spent millions of francs, on the Boulevard des
Italiens; and she has left the embroidery business to her sister and
mother. She is Madame Grenouville. The fat tradesman--"
"A Crevel?"
"Yes, madame," said the man. "Well, he has settled thirty thousand
francs a year on Mademoiselle Bijou by the marriage articles. And her
elder sister, they say, is going to be married to a rich butcher."
"Your business looks rather hopeless, I am afraid," said Josepha to
the Baroness. "Monsieur le Baron is no longer where I lodged him."
Ten minutes later Madame Bijou was announced. Josepha very prudently
placed the Baroness in the boudoir, and drew the curtain over the
door.
"You would scare her," said she to Madame Hulot. "She would let
nothing out if she suspected that you were interested in the
information. Leave me to catechise her. Hide there, and you will hear
everything. It is a scene that is played quite as often in real life
as on the stage--"
"Well, Mother Bijou," she said to an old woman dressed in tartan
stuff, and who looked like a porter's wife in her Sunday best, "so you
are all very happy? Your daughter is in luck.
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