Godfrey tried to pull himself together， feeling that it would not be wise to show fear of this woman， and greeted her as politely as he could， taking off his hat with a flourish in the foreign fashion.
"Put that hat back on your head， /mon petit/， or you will catch cold and be ill， you who are much too precious to be ill. Listen， now： I have something to say to you. You have great luck， have you not？ Ah！@@sweet Sister Helen， she go to join the spirits， quite quick， as I tell her a little while ago she will do， and she leaves you much money， though to me， her old friend， her sister in the speerit， she give not one sou， although she know I want it. Well， I think there some mistake， and I wish to talk to Sister Helen about this money business.
I think she leave me something， somehow， if I can find out where. And you， dear /petit/， can help me. Next Sunday you will come to my rooms of which I give you address，" and she thrust a card into his hand， "and we will talk with Sister Helen， or at least with Eleanor， your little friend."
Godfrey shook his head vigorously， but she took no notice.
"What have you been buying，" she went on， "with Sister Helen's money？
Presents， I think. Yes， yes， I see them in your pocket，" and she fixed her eyes upon the unhappy Godfrey's pocket， at least that is where he felt them.
"Oh！ very pretty presents. Necklace for the fine Madame， of whom I can tell you some stories. Watch for pretty Mees， with the red， pouting lips， so nice to kiss. Pipe for good old Pasteur， to smoke while he think of heaven， where one time he sit all day and do nothing for ever； lace for someone else， I know not who， and I think a charming ring for one who will not wear it just yet； a big girl with a pale face and eyes that flash， but can grow soft. One who would know how to love， eh！ Yes， not a doll， but one who would know how to love like a woman should. Am I right？"
The confused Godfrey babbled something about a shop， and was silent.
"Well， never mind the shop， my leetle friend. You come to my shop next Sunday， eh？"
"No，" said Godfrey， "I have had enough of spirits."
"Yes， perhaps， though the speerits have been your good friends， taking Sister Helen， who has left something behind her. But those dear speerits， they have not had enough of you； they very faithful souls， especially that pretty Eleanor. I tell you， Mr. Godfrey， you will come to see me next Sunday， and if you not come， I'll fetch you."
"Fetch me！ How？"
"Look at my eyes， that's how. I put you to sleep many times now， and I have power to make you come where I want and do what I wish. You do not believe me， eh？ Well， now I show you. Come， /mon petit/， and give your dear godmamma a kiss，" and she smiled at him like an ogress.
Now the last thing in the whole world that Godfrey wished to do was to embrace Madame Riennes， whom he loathed so that every fibre of his body shrank from her. Yet， oh horror！ a wild impulse to kiss her took possession of him. In vain he struggled； he tried to step backwards， and instead went forwards， he tried to turn his head away， but those glowing eyes held and drew him as a magnet draws a needle. And as the needle rolls across the table ever more quickly towards the magnet， so did the unwilling Godfrey gravitate towards Madame Riennes. And now， oh！ now her stout arm was about his neck， and now--he was impressing a fervent embrace upon her dome-like brow.
"There！ What did I tell you， you nice， kind， little Godfrey，" she gurgled with a hollow laugh. "Your dear godmamma thanks you， and you must run to catch that diligence. /Au revoir/ till Sunday afternoon.
Do not trouble about the hour， you will know exactly when to start.
Now go."
She made a movement of her big， white hand， with the result that Godfrey felt like a spring which had been suddenly released. Next instant， still pursued by that gurgling laughter， he was running hard towards the diligence.
Fortunately the Pasteur was so full of talk about the house and his business with the notary， that there was no need for Godfrey to speak in the coach， or indeed at dinner. Then after the meal was finished he produced his presents， and with blushes and stammers offered them to the various members of the family. What rapture there was！ Madame was delighted with her necklace， which she said and truly， was in the best of taste. Juliette kissed the watch， and looked as though she would like to kiss the donor， as indeed was her case. The Pasteur examined the fine pipe through his blue spectacles， saying that never had he expected to own one so beautiful， then at once filled it and began to smoke. After this they all scolded him for his extravagance.
"You did not buy anything for yourself，" said Juliette， reproachfully.
"Oh！ yes， I see you did，" and she pretended to perceive for the first time the little red case containing the ring， which inadvertently he had pulled out of his pocket with the other articles， although in truth she had observed it from the beginning. "Let us learn what it is，" she went on， possessing herself of and opening the case. "Oh！ a ring， what a pretty ring， with two hearts. For whom is the ring， Monsieur Godfrey？ Someone in England？"
Then Godfrey， overcome， told a lie.
"No， for myself，" he said.
Juliette looked at him and exclaimed：
"Then you should have told the jeweller to make it big enough. Try and you will see."
He turned red as a boiled lobster. Mademoiselle stood opposite to him， shaking her pretty head， and murmuring： "/Quel mensonge！ Quel bête mensonge！/" while Madame broke into a low and melodious laughter， and as she laughed， looked first at the ring and then at Juliette's shapely hand.
"Make not a mock of our young friend，" said the Pasteur， suddenly lifting his glance， or rather his spectacles from a long contemplation of that noble pipe and becoming aware of what was passing. "We all have our presents， which are magnificent. What then is our affair with the ring？ Pardon them， and put it in your pocket， Godfrey， and come， let us go to the observatory， for the night is fine， and by now the stove will be warm."