lready been asked in marriage. You know that the Baroness de Lowicz
is kind enough to take her out now and then. Well, she told me that an
arch-millionnaire had fallen in love with Reine--but he'll have to wait!
I shall still be able to keep her to myself for another five or six
years at least!"

He no longer wept, but gave a little laugh of egotistical satisfaction,
without noticing the chill occasioned by the mention of Seraphine's
name; for even Beauchene felt that his sister was hardly a fit companion
for a young girl.

Then Marianne, anxious at seeing the conversation drop, began,
questioning Valentine, while Gervais at last slyly crept to her knees.

"Why did you not bring your little Andree?" she inquired. "I should have
been so pleased to kiss her. And she would have been able to play
with this little gentleman, who, you see, does not leave me a moment's
peace."

But Seguin did not give his wife time to reply. "Ah! no, indeed!" he
exclaimed; "in that case I should not have come. It is quite enough to
have to drag the two others about. That fearful child has not ceased
deafening us ever since her nurse went away."

Valentine then explained that Andree was not really well behaved. She
had been weaned at the beginning of the previous week, and La Catiche,
after terrorizing the household for more than a year, had plunged it
by her departure into anarchy. Ah! that Catiche, she might compliment
herself on all the money she had cost! Sent away almost by force, like
a queen who is bound to abdicate at last, she had been loaded with
presents for herself and her husband, and her little girl at the
village! And now it had been of little use to take a dry-nurse in her
place, for Andree did not cease shrieking from morning till night. They
had discovered, too, that La Catiche had not only carried off with her
a large quantity of linen, but had left the other servants quite spoilt,
disorganized, so that a general clearance seemed necessary.

"Oh!" resumed Marianne, as if to smooth things, "when the children are
well one can overlook other worries."

"Why, do you imagine that Andree is well?" cried Seguin, giving way to
one of his brutal fits. "That Catiche certainly set her right at first,
but I don't know what happened afterwards, for now she is simply skin
and bones." Then, as his wife wished to protest, he lost his temper.
"Do you mean to say that I don't speak the truth? Why, look at our two
others yonder: they ha