"You have seen, you have seen--Why, you see nothing at all, girl. The viscountess takes a little notice of the boy merely to blind her idiot of a husband, so he won't get mad and make a fuss when M. de Monbreuil, the viscountess's lover arrives, for I have invited him to come in a few days. There is nothing that makes a house as lively and interesting as to have a lot of lovers about, so I invite all I know; but it is strange you haven't seen through the lady's manoeuvre. I warned my grandson, for I feared the innocent, unsophisticated fellow might come to grief, the viscountess is so charming." "Innocent, unsophisticated!" exclaimed Zerbinette, shaking her head. "You're mistaken about that, madame, for his infatuation for the mistress doesn't keep him from playing the deuce with her maid." "Dear boy! Is that really true, Zerbinette? Is there anything worth looking at among the women the viscountess brought with her?" "There is one tall blonde with dark eyes, plump as a partridge, with a complexion like milk, and the loveliest figure--" "And you think that Raoul--" "You know, madame, that at his age--" "_Pardi!_" exclaimed the marquise, taking another pinch of snuff. "That reminds me," she continued, after a moment's reflection, "you know all about everybody in the neighbourhood, who is it that leads the life of a hermitess in that lonely farmhouse on the Pont Brillant road? You know the place; the house is covered with vines, and there is a porch of rustic work very much like that house my grandson has just been building for his fawns." "Oh, yes, I know, madame. It is Madame Bastien who lives there." "And who is Madame Bastien?" "Did you hear that, madame?" asked Zerbinette, breathlessly. "What?" "Why, there in the cave. I heard something moving in there." "Nonsense, Zerbinette, how silly you are! It is the wind rustling the ivy leaves." "Do you really think so, madame?" "There isn't the slightest doubt of it. But, tell me, who is this Madame Bastien?" "She is the wife of a real estate agent. I suppose you would call him that, for he travels about the country buying tracts of land which he afterward subdivides and sells. He is scarcely ever at home." "Ah, he is scarcely ever at home, that would be a great advantage, eh, Zerbinette. But tell me, is it true that this little Bastien is as pretty as people say?" "She's a beauty, there's no doubt about it, madame. You remember Madame la Maréchale de Rubempré, don't you?" "Yes, and this young woman?" "Is as beautiful as she was, perhaps even more so." "And her figure?" "Is perfect." "That is what Raoul told me after he met her in the fields the other day. But who is that big sallow boy who was with her? Some scallawag of a brother probably. It might be a good idea to get him out of the way by giving him a position as clerk in the steward's office with a salary of twelve or fifteen hundred francs a year."