"Oh, how stupid you are!--I'll get my work, there--" and taking her work out of a basket on the table she went and sat down by her mother. "Are we not going to have any whist to-night?" asked M. Mauperin. "Yes, of course, my dear," answered Mme. Mauperin. "The table is ready--you see there are only the candles to light." "Going, going, gone!" called out Denoisel in M. Barousse's ear. The old gentleman was just beginning to doze in a corner by the chimney-piece and his head was nodding like a passenger's in a stage-coach. M. Barousse started up and Denoisel handed him a card: "The King of Spades! _before the letter!_ You are wanted at whist." "You are not over-tired this evening, mademoiselle?" asked Reverchon, approaching Renee. "I? I could dance all night. That's how I feel." "You are making something--very pretty----" "This?--oh, yes, very pretty! It is a stocking--I am knitting for my little poor children. It's warm, that's all it is. I am not very clever with my needle, you know. With embroidery and wool-work you have to think about what you are doing, but with this, you see, your fingers go; it just makes itself when once you start, and you can think about anything--the Grand Turk if you like----" "I say, Renee," observed M. Mauperin, "it's odd; it's no good my losing, I can't catch up again." "Oh, that's clever--I shall remember that for my collection," answered Renee. "Denoisel, come here," she called out, suddenly, "come here a minute--nearer--nearer still. Will you come here at once--there now--kneel down----" "Are you mad, child?" exclaimed Mme. Mauperin. "Renee," said Denoisel, "I believe you have made up your mind to prevent my getting married." "Come, come, Renee!" said M. Mauperin paternally from the card-table. "Well--what is it?" asked Renee threatening Denoisel playfully with a pair of scissors. "Now if you move! Denoisel's head always looks untidy--his hair is badly cut--he always has a great, ugly lock that falls over his forehead. It makes people squint when they look at him. I want to cut that lock. There--he's afraid. Why, I cut hair very well--you ask papa," and forthwith she gave two or three clips with her scissors, and then crossing over to the fireplace, shook the hair into the grate. "If you fancy it was for the sake of getting a lock of your hair--" she said, turning round as she spoke. She had paid no attention to the nudge her brother had given her as she passed. Her mother, who an instant before was perfectly crimson, was now pale, but Renee had not noticed that. Her father left the whist-table and came across to her with an embarrassed expression, looking as though he were vexed with her. She took the cigarette which he had lighted from him, put it between her own lips, and drawing a puff of smoke, blew it away again quickly, turning her head away, coughing and blinking. "Ugh!--how horrid it is!"