She usually affected to treat Pierrette well before company. This deception irritated the honest Breton girl, and made her despise her cousin. She took her embroidery, but as she drew her stitches she still watched Gouraud’s play. Gouraud behaved as if he did not know the girl was near him. Sylvie noticed this apparent indifference and thought it extremely suspicious. Presently she undertook a _grande misere_ in hearts, the pool being full of counters, besides containing twenty-seven sous. The rest of the company had now arrived; among them the deputy-judge Desfondrilles, who for the last two months had abandoned the Tiphaine party and connected himself more or less with the Vinets. He was standing before the chimney-piece, with his back to the fire and the tails of his coat over his arms, looking round the fine salon of which Mademoiselle de Chargeboeuf was the shining ornament; for it really seemed as if all the reds of its decoration had been made expressly to enhance her style of beauty. Silence reigned; Pierrette was watching the game, Sylvie’s attention was distracted from her by the interest of the _grande misere_. “Play that,” said Pierrette to the colonel, pointing to a heart in his hand. The colonel began a sequence in hearts; the hearts all lay between himself and Sylvie; the colonel won her ace, though it was protected by five small hearts. “That’s not fair!” she cried. “Pierrette saw my hand, and the colonel took her advice.” “But, mademoiselle,” said Celeste, “it was the colonel’s game to play hearts after you began them.” The scene made Monsieur Desfondrilles smile; his was a keen mind, which found much amusement in watching the play of all the self-interests in Provins. “Yes, it was certainly the colonel’s game,” said Cournant the notary, not knowing what the question was. Sylvie threw a look at Mademoiselle Habert,--one of those glances which pass from old maid to old maid, feline and cruel. “Pierrette, you did see my hand,” said Sylvie fixing her eyes on the girl. “No, cousin.” “I was looking at you all,” said the deputy-judge, “and I can swear that Pierrette saw no one’s hand but the colonel’s.” “Pooh!” said Gouraud, alarmed, “little girls know how to slide their eyes into everything.” “Ah!” exclaimed Sylvie. “Yes,” continued Gouraud. “I dare say she looked into your hand to play you a trick. Didn’t you, little one?” “No,” said the truthful Breton, “I wouldn’t do such a thing; if I had, it would have been in my cousin’s interests.” “You know you are a story-teller and a little fool,” cried Sylvie. “After what happened this morning do you suppose I can believe a word you say? You are a--” Pierrette did not wait for Sylvie to finish her sentence; foreseeing a torrent of insults, she rushed away without a light and ran to her room. Sylvie turned white with anger and muttered between her teeth, “She shall pay for this!” “Shall you pay for the _misere_?” said Madame de Chargeboeuf.