"Then why didn't you say so at first?" Fearing to be forced into explanations, she abated her fury and more calmly demanded: "You have a plan; what is it?" "It's true?" Cramoisin said, still unconvinced. "You'll join me?" "I swear it." "We can't convince Javogues," Cramoisin began, "unless we can make Nicole betray him." "But how?" "Jealousy." "Jealousy? Is there cause? Do you know anything?" "What is necessary we can invent." "She won't believe it." "She'll believe it when she hears it from three persons," Cramoisin said, ruffling up his nose and sneering. "A woman'll believe anything three persons tell her. With Boudgoust and Jambony, we are four." "Is that your plan?" she cried, in disappointment. "It's stupid, impossible!" Cramoisin continued to argue with her its merits; she accorded it a grunt, then a shake of the head, and finally said: "Well, yes; it may do. We can try." "It's agreed, then. We must excite her suspicions,--but nothing definite." "What, are you going to give me instructions!" la Mère Corniche cried irately. "As though I couldn't handle a woman!" "Touch hands, then; it's agreed?" "Yes." "You must speak the first word," he said hurriedly. "It will be better." Shutting off a reply, he departed, leaving the concierge scowling and angry. "Oui dà, I'll speak the first word, old schemer. He doesn't want the woman to lay it to him, the toad!" * * * * * The next morning, as Nicole was leaving for the flower-market, la Mère Corniche called to her. "Eh, Nicole, stop a moment." The girl, who feared her, approached reluctantly. "You're going to the market?" "Yes." "To-morrow is Sunday. I want to put some flowers on the tomb of Marat. See what is going cheap this morning and tell me." "Is that all?" "You must stop from time to time to give me news," continued la Mère Corniche, taking her hand. "You know as much as I do." "You sell flowers every day?" "Yes." "Your man doesn't earn enough, then?" "With the price of food where it is one can't earn too much." "You are happy?" the old woman asked brusquely. "Why do you ask that?" Nicole replied, resenting the question. "There, don't get angry. You may have friends you don't know of." She released her hand, adding: "If you suspect nothing, I'll say no more." Penetrating readily the stratagem, Nicole laughed over the encounter, and, perceiving the bald attempt to rouse her jealousy, she dismissed the conversation contemptuously from her mind. Toward midday, however, the insinuation returned, and forgetting her first attitude, she suffered a little at the very shadow of what her imagination could conjure up. She ended by again laughing at her simplicity, nor did her mind recur again to the thought during the day.