"I do believe in fortune-tellers," said Madame Wolsky deliberately, "and
that being so I shall spend my afternoon in going up to Montmartre, to
the Rue Jolie, to hear what this Cagliostra has to say. It will be what
you in England call 'a lark'! And I do not see why I should not give
myself so cheap a lark as a five-franc lark!"
"Oh, if you really mean to go, I think I will go too!" cried Sylvia,
gaily.
She was beginning to feel less tired, and the thought of a long lonely
afternoon spent indoors and by herself lacked attraction.
Linking her arm through her friend's, she went downstairs and into the
barely furnished dining-room, which was so very unlike an English hotel
dining-room. In this dining-room the wallpaper simulated a vine-covered
trellis, from out of which peeped blue-plumaged birds, and on each little
table, covered by an unbleached table-cloth, stood an oil and vinegar
cruet and a half-bottle of wine.
The Hotel de l'Horloge was a typical French hotel, and foreigners very
seldom stayed there. Sylvia had been told of the place by the old French
lady who had been her governess, and who had taught her to speak French
exceptionally well.
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