safety before
compromising that of others."

"Is it Florent you mean?" Quenu timidly inquired after a pause.

Lisa did not immediately reply. She got up and went back to the
secretaire, as if trying to restrain herself.

"Yes, it is Florent," she said presently, in incisive tones. "You know
how patient I am. I would bear almost anything rather than come between
you and your brother. The tie of relationship is a sacred thing. But the
cup is filled to overflowing now. Since your brother came here things
have been constantly getting worse and worse. But now, I won't say
anything more; it is better that I shouldn't."

There was another pause. Then, as her husband gazed up at the ceiling
with an air of embarrassment, she continued, with increased violence:

"Really, he seems to ignore all that we have done for him. We have
put ourselves to great inconvenience for his sake; we have given him
Augustine's bedroom, and the poor girl sleeps without a murmur in a
stuffy little closet where she can scarcely breathe. We board and lodge
him and give him every attention--but no, he takes it all quite as a
matter of course. He is earning money, but what he does with it nobody
knows; or, rather, one knows only too well."

"But there's his share of the inheritance, you know," Quenu ventured to
say, pained at hearing his brother attacked.

Lisa suddenly stiffened herself as though she were stunned, and her
anger vanished.

"Yes, you are right; there is his share of the inheritance. Here is
the statement of it, in this drawer. But he refused to take it; you
remember, you were present, and heard him. That only proves that he is a
brainless, worthless fellow. If he had had an idea in his head, he would
have made something out of that money by now. For my own part, I should
be very glad to get rid of it; it would be a relief to us. I have told
him so twice, but he won't listen to me. You ought to persuade him to
take it. Talk to him about it, will you?"

Quenu growled something in reply; and Lisa refrained from pressing the
point further, being of opinion that she had done all that could be
expected of her.

"He is not like other men," she resumed. "He's not a comfortable sort of
person to have in the house. I shouldn't have said this if we hadn't got
talking on the subject. I don't busy myself about his conduct, though
it's setting the whole neighbourhood gossiping about us. Let him eat
and sleep here, and put us about, if he li