Marcel’s brow darkened. He did not care to feel that he was deprived of freedom even by his nearest and dearest, and above all he was very much out of sympathy with himself. He had come home quite determined to shut himself up at Le Maupas, to plunge himself in the fragrance of his native air and the memories of those whom he had lost, and also to restore a little happiness to his mother and sister--and now it had taken but one visit from a mere girl to upset all his ideas and to shatter his pride and his strength of will. The gentle pleading of mother and sister left him silent. But Paule could not bear to see her brother sad for long. “Marcel,” she said, “you must go to La Chênaie. But I cannot go with you. I have nothing to wear.” Marcel’s reply came too quickly and betrayed the vehemence of his desire. “I will buy you some clothes, dear. I have saved some money.” “But you have helped so often,” asserted Madame Guibert, with a loving glance at her son, whose close presence she did not even yet seem to realise. Late in the evening, while Madame Guibert was slowly making her invariable round to see that the house was safely locked up, Paule, sitting in the drawing-room with Marcel saw him lost in thought again. She went up to him and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “Are you dreaming of the fair Alice?” she asked. So kind was her tone that he could only smile, as he denied his weakness. But immediately afterwards he admitted the truth, adding, “She certainly is fair, isn’t she? Is she a friend of yours?” “We were at the Sacred Heart Convent together. She is the same age as I, perhaps a little younger. At the Convent she was like a little sister in her affection for me. She is sweet, gentle, and timid, and likes to be led rather than to lead.” “A very good thing in a woman,” said Marcel approvingly. He had no hesitancy in admitting the superiority of his own sex. Paule stroked her brother’s forehead with her soft hand. “Alice is not the right wife for you,” she said. “I never thought of marrying her,” was his brusque answer. But his sister did not abandon her purpose. “She is deficient in courage,” she said. “And besides we are not in the same set.” “Not in the same set! Because the Dulaurenses have more money than we have? In France, thank God, it is not yet the case that wealth determines social position.” Paule was sorry she had provoked this outburst. “That is not what I meant to say,” she explained. “The people we are speaking of have a totally different outlook on life. They make a show and cannot distinguish between worthless things and those of importance. I don’t know how to make it clear to you, but I did not wish to make you cross.” “Are you going to preach to me about the ways of the world?” asked her brother. “Before you have even seen it you pretend to judge it!”