"Has Mme. Reni gone yet?"
"No, sir," the man answered, staring blankly
at the spectacle of a well-dressed gentleman carrying
a ragged street child in his arms, "Mme.
Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is
waiting for her. Yes; there she comes."
Zita descended the stairs, leaning on the arm of
a young cavalry officer. She looked superbly
handsome, with an opera cloak of flame-coloured
velvet thrown over her evening dress, and a great
fan of ostrich plumes hanging from her waist. In
the entry she stopped short, and, drawing her
hand away from the officer's arm, approached the
Gadfly in amazement.
"Felice!" she exclaimed under her breath,
"what HAVE you got there?"
"I have picked up this child in the street. It is
hurt and starving; and I want to get it home as
quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be got
anywhere, so I want to have your carriage."
"Felice! you are not going to take a horrid
beggar-child into your rooms! Send for a policeman,
and let him carry it to the Refuge or whatever
is the proper place for it.
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