Perhaps it is necessary to have been, like Nebuchadnezzar, something of a wild beast, and shut up in a cage at the Jardin des Plantes without other prey than the butcher's meat doled out by the keeper, or a retired merchant deprived of the joys of tormenting his clerks, to understand the impatience with which the brother and sister awaited the arrival of their cousin Lorrain. Three days after the letter had gone, the pair were already asking themselves when she would get there. Sylvie perceived in her spurious benevolence towards her poor cousin a means of recovering her position in the social world of Provins. She accordingly went to call on Madame Tiphaine, of whose reprobation she was conscious, in order to impart the fact of Pierrette's approaching arrival,--deploring the girl's unfortunate position, and posing herself as being only too happy to succor her and give her a position as daughter and future heiress. "You have been rather long in discovering her," said Madame Tiphaine, with a touch of sarcasm. A few words said in a low voice by Madame Garceland, while the cards were being dealt, recalled to the minds of those who heard her the shameful conduct of old Rogron about the Auffray property; the notary explained the iniquity. "Where is the little girl now?" asked Monsieur Tiphaine, politely. "In Brittany," said Rogron. "Brittany is a large place," remarked Monsieur Lesourd. "Her grandfather and grandmother Lorrain wrote to us--when was that, my dear?" said Rogron addressing his sister. Sylvie, who was just then asking Madame Garceland where she had bought the stuff for her gown, answered hastily, without thinking of the effect of her words:-- "Before we sold the business." "And have you only just answered the letter, mademoiselle?" asked the notary. Sylvie turned as red as a live coal. "We wrote to the Institution of Saint-Jacques," remarked Rogron. "That is a sort of hospital or almshouse for old people," said Monsieur Desfondrilles, who knew Nantes. "She can't be there; they receive no one under sixty." "She is there, with her grandmother Lorrain," said Rogron. "Her mother had a little fortune, the eight thousand francs which your father--no, I mean of course your grandfather--left to her," said the notary, making the blunder intentionally. "Ah!" said Rogron, stupidly, not understanding the notary's sarcasm. "Then you know nothing about your cousin's position or means?" asked Monsieur Tiphaine. "If Monsieur Rogron had known it," said the deputy-judge, "he would never have left her all this time in an establishment of that kind. I remember now that a house in Nantes belonging to Monsieur and Madame Lorrain was sold under an order of the court, and that Mademoiselle Lorrain's claim was swallowed up. I know this, for I was commissioner at the time."