ee--now we are the best friends in the world.
Wilhelmine is a girl whom I love with all my heart; the baron is an
amiable man, all kindness and attention.... It is true that I am now a
kind of companion, in an 'inferior' position, as you choose to put it
in your absurdly vain and jealous way of looking at things; but, my
dear man, there are ways and ways, and I assure you I am treated as
one of the family. And, besides, you ought to consider that it was
precisely at the Naarboveck receptions we met."

With the utterance of these last words Bobinette glanced at Captain
Brocq as if she would annihilate him: the remembrance of their first
meeting seemed more odious to her than pleasing.

Brocq, whose eyes were obstinately lowered, saw nothing of this. He
suggested: "I am not the only one you have met at M. de Naarboveck's.
There is that handsome cuirassier, Henri de Loubersac."...

Bobinette crimsoned. She shrugged her shoulders. "How stupid you are!
Lieutenant Henri does not give me a thought, if he comes to the
house."...

Brocq interrupted: "Yes, I know he comes on account of the fair
Wilhelmine." His tone was conciliatory. Once more he drew Bobinette to
him; but she seemed to object more and more strongly to the captain's
caresses. Glancing at a clock on the mantelpiece she cried: "Why, it
is four o'clock! High time I should leave."

Brocq, who had followed her glance, added, suddenly serious: "My
faith! I must call at the Ministry!"

Both rose. Bobinette took up her hat and went to the looking-glass.
Brocq exchanged his jacket for a black coat. He went into his study,
separated from the other room by a heavy curtain.

"Bobinette!" he called.

That young person responded to his call, but with no show of haste.
She found the captain seated before his bureau rummaging in an immense
drawer crammed full of papers.

"You know, my little Bobinette, that I have made you my sole legatee,"
cried the captain, with an adoring look at the pretty girl who
suddenly appeared in the doorway. He continued his search among his
papers: they were in great disorder.

"I wished to show you--it's a question of spelling your name
correctly. You are called Berthe, are you not?"

The girl had come forward. She quickly caught sight of a mauve sheet
of paper on the blotting-pad. A few lines were traced on it.

"Ah! you wretch!" she cried, while she glanced through the words. She
pretended to be angry. "I've caught you! You were wri