sited her house.

Madame de Campvallon permitted herself to be introduced by M. de Camors.
Madame de la Roche-Jugan followed her there, because she followed her
everywhere, and took her son Sigismund. On this evening the reunion was
small. M. de Camors had only been there a few moments, when he had the
satisfaction of seeing the General and the Marquise enter. She tranquilly
expressed to him her regret at not having been at home the preceding day;
but it was impossible to hope for a more decided explanation in a circle
so small, and under the vigilant eye of Madame de la Roche-Jugan. Camors
interrogated vainly the face of his young cousin. It was as beautiful and
cold as usual. His anxiety increased; he would have given his life at
that moment to hear her say one word of love.

The Viscountess liked the play of wit, as she had little herself. They
played at her house such little games as were then fashionable. Those
little games are not always innocent, as we shall see.

They had distributed pencils, pens, and packages of paper--some of the
players sitting around large tables, and some in separate chairs--and
scratched mysteriously, in turn, questions and answers. During this time
the General played whist with Madame de la Roche-Jugan. Madame Campvallon
did not usually take part in these games, as they fatigued her. Camors
was therefore astonished to see her accept the pencil and paper offered
her.

This singularity awakened his attention and put him on his guard. He
himself joined in the game, contrary to his custom, and even charged
himself with collecting in the basket the small notes as they were
written.

An hour passed without any special incident. The treasures of wit were
dispensed. The most delicate and unexpected questions--such as, "What is
love?" "Do you think that friendship can exist between the sexes?" "Is it
sweeter to love or to beloved?"--succeeded each other with corresponding
replies. All at once the Marquise gave a slight scream, and they saw a
drop of blood trickle down her forehead. She laughed, and showed her
little silver pencil-case, which had a pen at one end, with which she had
scratched her forehead in her abstraction.

The attention of Camors was redoubled from this moment--the more so from
a rapid and significant glance from the Marquise, which seemed to warn
him of an approaching event. She was sitting a little in shadow in one
corner, in order to meditate more at ease on questions