“I’m always treated like a baby,” Marie Josephine replied. There was a good deal of truth in her words. She was small and quiet and shy. She would not be thirteen until November and that was three months away. Lisle came up to the fire, stepping over Flambeau, who had settled himself in the heat of the blaze, and pinched Marie Josephine’s ear. Proté came up to him with a collar of fluted gold tinsel and ermine. “Will you allow me to see if it fits properly, Monsieur Lisle?” she asked, putting her funny, plump face on one side as she examined her handiwork. “No, I’ll not be bothered with frills to-day.” Lisle frowned this time in earnest, rubbing his shoulders restlessly against the side of the mantel and looking out of the window where dark trees tossed against a grey, stormy sky. Hortense and Denise both spoke at once. “Lisle!” they exclaimed. Denise jumped up and came over to him, dragging a piece of blue velvet after her and unmindful of the fact that a piece of black cardboard was sticking to her chin. They all burst out laughing as she clasped her hands together and burst into a torrent of words. “Lisle, you’re not going to be obstinate. You are going to be the Sun King at the ball, aren’t you?” she pleaded. Lisle shrugged his shoulders, saying teasingly: “We shall see. I’ll not go with you if you do not clean your face. A nice, grown-up duchess you will make, with paste and black paper on your chin. I for one think it’s all nonsense. It’s stupid of the De Soigné to have a party now.” Lisle was tall, and he held his blond head high, which made him look even taller and older than he was. He would not be sixteen until the following winter. He had a very fair face with a pointed nose and blue eyes which had a straight unwinking way of looking at one. His cousin Hortense, who had lived in his family since her infancy, was almost as tall as he, but she was dark, like Marie Josephine. Strangers always took them for sisters. “I think it’s splendid of the De Soigné to have the party!” Denise danced mockingly in front of her brother as she spoke. He had consented to allow Proté to try on the collar, but he stood frowning over her shoulder as she surveyed the effect. Some one came in quickly from the nurseries beyond. It was a short, sharp-nosed woman in a black silk dress with wide, flowing sleeves and a fichu of lace at the neck. This was Madame le Pont, the governess. “There you are, chérie. I have been uneasy because I could not find you. Surely you have not been in the garden unattended!” “I wasn’t in the garden. I was out on the balcony listening,” Marie Josephine answered. “Listening! What do you mean?” the governess asked her. “The noises of Paris, Madame. There are so many noises now. Flambeau was restless last night. He heard them, too!”