The clock was still striking; my uncle raised his arms as if to curse
me.

"Decide at once," I cried, "somebody is coming!"

"Well, then--yes!" murmured my uncle. "But make haste!"

"On your word of honour?"

"On my word of honour!"

The visor gave way, the gorget-piece also, and my uncle's head issued
from durance, red as a poppy.

Just in time. The chemist at the corner, a colleague in the Municipal
Council, entered the shop.

"Are you coming?" he asked; "they will be beginning the business without
us."

"I'm coming," replied my uncle.

And without looking at me, he took up his hat and cane and hurried out.

The next moment all my hopes had vanished. My uncle would surely not
forgive me.

At dinner-time I took my place at table on his right hand in low
spirits, ate little, and said nothing.