This antic afforded much amusement to Monsieur Clindor, who broke a beautiful piece of porcelain in his uproarious mirth. Being rebuked by the marquis, he lost his head and trod on Fleurial's paw. Adamas could not resist Mario's droll aspect, and he, too, laughed! Bellinde was the only one who kept a serious countenance, and the marquis was grateful to her for it. "That child is very mischievous," he said that night to Adamas, "and everything that he does indicates a playful and most entertaining wit. But we must not spoil him too much, Adamas!" The next day there was more trouble: one of the phials of carmine on the dressing-table was found to be broken, and the beautiful lace table-cover was stained. It was laid at Fleurial's door at first, but similar spots were discovered on Mario's white jacket. He was surprised, and stoutly denied having approached the dressing-table. "I believe you, my son," said the marquis, with a sigh. "If I deemed you capable of lying, I should be too deeply grieved." But on the next day the cosmetics were found to be mixed; the red with the black and the black with the white. "Zounds!" ejaculated the marquis, "this devil's work continues! Will it be the same way with it as with the noses of my poor statues?" He scrutinized Mario without speaking; there were black stains on the ruffles at his wrists. It might have been ink; but the marquis had a horror of spots, and begged him to go and change his linen. "Adamas," he said to his confidant, "the child is mischievous, that is all right; but if he is a liar and abuses my confidence in his word, it will break my heart, my friend! I believed that he was made of a superior substance, but God does not choose that I shall be too proud of him. He allows the devil to make of him a child like other children." Adamas took sides with Mario, who had just entered the boudoir adjoining the bedroom. At that moment they heard Bellinde engaged in a warm dispute with the child. He was pulling her by the skirt, and she resisted by saying that he took liberties above his age. The marquis rose indignantly. "Libertine!" he cried in despair; "already a libertine?" Poor Mario ran forward, weeping bitterly. "Father," he cried, throwing himself into his arms, "she is a wicked girl. I was trying to bring her to you to show you what she has on her hands. She touched my ruff, saying that it was stained, and it is she who puts the stains on it; she wants to make you feel grieved and prevent you from loving me. She takes advantage of the foolish things I do to put other wicked things on my back. Father, she isn't a good woman; she makes you think I am a liar, and, if you believe her----" "No, no, my son, I do not believe her!" cried the marquis.--"Adamas!" But Adamas was no longer there; he had run after Bellinde; he seized her on the staircase, tried to drag her back by force, and received for his pains a hearty cuff which made him relax his grasp.