The more he thought the matter over, the more puzzled grew the abbe; the more angry with himself and dissatisfied. A very few days after the arrival of Mademoiselle, her pervading presence began to be felt by the entire household in a way that maddened Pharamond. It was like the mysterious action of yeast on dough. As outwardly respectful and submissive as a dependent should be, everybody came to feel that orders emanated from her. Was the fascination due to an occult power inoculated by the prophet? Even the scoffing abbe began to wonder whether there was something serious underlying the antics of the charlatan, after all. Certain it was that she did possess a power, but whether due to magnetism or strong will, it was hard to determine. The abbe's will was as tough as hers, he was proud to think, but instinct told him that a struggle between the two would be exhausting to both, and that none might prophesy the result. Better an alliance, if she, like him, was working on a web. But would she brook a divided sway? Was _he_ prepared to accept so unsatisfactory an arrangement? How exasperating, that just as the horizon seemed so clear, the sky so cloudless, a thunderbolt should come out of the blue to play havoc with all his combinations. What of Gabrielle? His schemes revolved around her. Thanks to his cleverness he and she had tranquilly resumed their old relations. He did not propose to be content to read poetry for ever. A time was to come when she was to return the burning kisses he had impressed upon her shoulder, and twine her arms about his neck; and that longed-for moment was no nearer now than months ago. To tame the fluttering bird to his will he must do a little squeezing, after all, and make up by the ardour of the future for the painful proceedings of the present. Yes, Gabrielle must be gently racked, be made familiar with tweaks and pains. A little twist or two and a tug of ropes just to hint of such a tearing as was possible. Perhaps the governess, if an alliance could be brought about, might become a useful agent instead of a kill-joy. Isolated on all sides, the Marquise de Gange must be thrown on her dear friend the abbe for protection; then the rest would quite naturally follow. Among other things the accomplished Aglae was a skilled musician, and this became a new and unexpected bond between her and the enchanted marquis. She could rattle off by heart on the spinet all Lulli and Glueck, could even improvise entrancing accompaniments to airs hitherto unknown to her. She loved music, and considered the violoncello to be the most soul-stirring if sad of instruments. Sometimes her hands would slide from the keys while a great sigh burst from her capacious bosom, and the marquis looking up would perceive tears rolling down her cheeks. "It is nothing, but I do love it so," she would snuffle incoherently, and then resume the improvising with eyes and nose unbecomingly roseate and swollen.