Sylvie's curled lip said, "Pshaw! What of it! . . ." But Annette did not let her speak; the torrent was loosed. "I had confidence in you, I thought that you would tell me about your trials and troubles as I tell you about mine, that we would share everything. And then you push me to one side as though I were a stranger; I know nothing, nothing! Except by chance, I should never have learned that you were in trouble, that you are hunting a job, that you are ruining your health; and you would take on any sort of work rather than tell me about it, when you know that it would be a joy for me to help you. . . . It's wrong, wrong! You have hurt me. It's a lack of frankness, a lack of friendship! But I won't stand it any longer! No! . . . To begin with you are coming to live with me, and you are going to stay here until the dead season is over. . . ." Sylvie shook her head. "You are coming, don't say no! Now listen to me, Sylvie; I won't forgive if you don't. If you say no, I will never see you again, in all my life. . . ." Without taking the trouble to excuse herself or to explain, Sylvie, smiling and obstinate, answered: "No, my dear, no." She was quite pleased at Annette's agitation. Her big sister, who had tried to defeat her, was now no longer mistress of herself, she was almost in tears. Sylvie: was thinking: "How much prettier she is when she is animated!" Her face purple with anger, Annette kept repeating, beseeching imperiously: "Stay! . . . You will stay. . . . I want you to. . . . It's agreed? . . . You are going to stay? . . . You're staying? . . . Answer me! . . . It's yes? . . ." And with the same exasperating smile, the little donkey replied: "It's no, dearest." Annette turned away from her, violently. "Then, it's all over." And turning her back, she went to the window, where she seemed oblivious to Sylvie's presence. The younger girl waited for a moment, then she got up and said in a wheedling voice: "So long, Annette." Annette did not turn around. "Farewell," she replied. Her hands were clenched. If she had moved, Heaven knows what would have happened! She would have wept, cried out. . . . She did not stir, haughty and icy. Sylvie, somewhat embarrassed, and not a little disturbed, but amused in spite of everything, took her departure; once behind the door, she thumbed her nose.