The rebellious chaperone paused again. The bitter rancour which had been accumulating in her heart for years fairly choked her; but after a moment, she resumed in a tone of irony: “You ask me what _I_ should do in Paris? I should enjoy myself, like you. You will go to court, to the play--into society, won’t you? Very well, I will accompany you. I will attend these fetes. I will have handsome toilettes too. I have rarely seen myself in anything but shabby black woollen dresses. Have you ever thought of giving me the pleasure of possessing a handsome dress? Twice a-year, perhaps, you have given me a black silk, recommending me to take good care of it. But it was not for my sake that you went to this expense. It was for your own sake, and in order that your poor relation should do honour to your generosity. You dressed me in it, like you put your lacqueys in livery, through vanity. And I endured all this; I made myself insignificant and humble; and when I was buffeted on one cheek, I offered the other. For after all I must live--I must have food. And you, Blanche, how often haven’t you said to me so that I might do your bidding, ‘You must obey me, if you wish to remain at Courtornieu!’ And I obeyed you--I was forced to obey, as I didn’t know where else to go. Ah! you have abused my poverty in every way; but now my turn has come!” Blanche was so amazed that she could scarcely articulate a syllable, and it was in a scarcely audible voice that at last she faltered: “I don’t understand you, aunt, I don’t understand you.” The poor dependent shrugged her shoulders, as her niece had done a few moments before. “In that case,” said she, slowly, “I may as well tell you that since you have made me your accomplice against my will, we must share everything in common. I share the danger; so I will share the pleasure. Suppose everything should be discovered? Do you ever think of that? Yes, I’ve no doubt you do, and that’s why you are seeking diversion. Very well! I desire diversion also, so I shall go to Paris with you.” With a desperate effort, Blanche managed to regain some degree of self-possession. “And if I still said no?” she coldly queried. “But you won’t say no.” “And why not, if you please?” “Because--” “Will you go to the authorities and denounce me?” Aunt Medea shook her head. “I am not such a fool,” she retorted. “I should only compromise myself. No. I shouldn’t do that; but I might, perhaps, tell your husband what happened at the Borderie.”