ions put to him. At every moment he cast on his brother a
look in which encouragement and uneasiness were mingled. Nor did
Monsieur Rambaud seen possessed of his wonted tranquillity that
evening; but his agitation manifested itself in a craving to talk and
fidget on his chair, which seemed rather inconsistent with his quiet
disposition. When the Brussels sprouts had disappeared, there was a
delay in the appearance of the dessert, and a spell of silence ensued.
Out of doors the rain was beating down with still greater force,
rattling noisily against the house. The dining-room was rather close,
and it suddenly dawned on Helene that there was something strange in
the air--that the two brothers had some worry of which they did not
care to speak. She looked at them anxiously, and at last spoke:

"Dear, dear! What dreadful rain! isn't it? It seems to be influencing
both of you, for you look out of sorts."

They protested, however, that such was not the case, doing their
utmost to clear her mind of the notion. And as Rosalie now made her
appearance with an immense dish, Monsieur Rambaud exclaimed, as though
to veil his emotion: "What did I say! Still another surprise!"

The surprise of the day was some vanilla cream, one of the cook's
triumphs. And thus it was a sight to see her broad, silent grin, as
she deposited her burden on the table. Jeanne shouted and clapped her
hands.

"I knew it, I knew it! I saw the eggs in the kitchen!"

"But I have no more appetite," declared Monsieur Rambaud, with a look
of despair. "I could not eat any of it!"

Thereupon Rosalie became grave, full of suppressed wrath. With a
dignified air, she remarked: "Oh, indeed! A cream which I made
specially for you! Well, well! just try not to eat any of it--yes,
try!"

He had to give in and accept a large helping of the cream. Meanwhile
the Abbe remained thoughtful. He rolled up his napkin and rose before
the dessert had come to an end, as was frequently his custom. For a
little while he walked about, with his head hanging down; and when
Helene in her turn quitted the table, he cast at Monsieur Rambaud a
look of intelligence, and led the young woman into the bedroom.[*] The
door being left open behind them, they could almost immediately
afterwards be heard conversing together, though the words which they
slowly exchanged were indistinguishable.

[*] Helene's frequent use of her bedroom may seem strange to the
English reader who has never bee