“Oh—you’re already here,” she remarked, as if they’d just seen one other the day before. “Wait for me in the tearoom. I’m just going to put these things in my room.” Ephraïm stood frozen, breathless, silent, gazing at this almost supernatural vision—it was as if Aniouta hadn’t changed a bit in twenty years. “Be an angel and order me a hot chocolate. Do forgive me, but I wasn’t expecting you to be here so soon,” she said, in an adorable French accent. Ephraïm wondered if her words contained a subtle reproach. It was true that he had responded to her summons with the haste of a dog called by its
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