ady-killer before madame, and the maid's annoyance then became
real.

"Oh!" said she, "we know all about that! You know, madame, he's still
a booby at heart. You've no idea how stupid that uniform makes them
all! That's the way he goes on with his comrades; but if I turned him
out, you would hear him sobbing on the stairs. Oh, I don't care a fig
for you, my lad! Why, whenever I please, won't you always be there to
do as I tell you?"

She bent forward to observe him closely; but, on seeing that his
good-natured, freckled face was beginning to cloud over, she was
suddenly moved, and prattled on, without any seeming transition:

"Ah! I didn't tell you that I've received a letter from auntie. The
Guignard lot want to sell their house--aye, and almost for nothing
too. We might perhaps be able to take it later on."

"By Jove!" exclaimed Zephyrin, brightening, "we should be quite at
home there. There's room enough for two cows."

With this idea they lapsed into silence. They were now having some
dessert. The little soldier licked the jam on his bread with a child's
greedy satisfaction, while the servant girl carefully pared an apple
with a maternal air.

"Madame!" all at once exclaimed Rosalie, "there's the water boiling
now."

Helene, however, never stirred. She felt herself enveloped by an
atmosphere of happiness. She gave a continuance to their dreams, and
pictured them living in the country in the Guignards' house and
possessed of two cows. A smile came to her face as she saw Zephyrin
sitting there to all appearance so serious, though in reality he was
patting Rosalie's knee under the table, whilst she remained very
stiff, affecting an innocent demeanor. Then everything became blurred.
Helene lost all definite sense of her surroundings, of the place where
she was, and of what had brought her there. The copper pans were
flashing on the walls; feelings of tenderness riveted her to the spot;
her eyes had a far-away look. She was not affected in any way by the
disorderly state of the kitchen; she had no consciousness of having
demeaned herself by coming there; all she felt was a deep pleasure, as
when a longing has been satisfied. Meantime the heat from the fire was
bedewing her pale brow with beads of perspiration, and behind her the
wind, coming in through the half-open window, quivered delightfully on
her neck.

"Madame, your water is boiling," again said Rosalie. "There will be
soon none left in the kettle."