"I don't distrust you, my boy. I fear an imprudence, an indiscretion. And, generally speaking, I have plenty of reasons for being suspicious." "What reasons, uncle?" "Reasons," he replied, in a more serious voice, "which make me think that I am being spied upon and that somebody is trying to discover what my invention is. Yes, somebody came in here, the other night, and rummaged among my papers." "Did they find anything?" "No. I always carry the most important notes and formulae on me. Still, you can imagine what would happen if they succeeded. So you do admit, don't you, that I am obliged to be cautious? Write down that I have told you of my investigations and that you have seen what I obtain on the wall in the Yard, at the place covered by a black-serge curtain." I took a sheet of paper and a pen. But he stopped me quickly: "No, no," he said, "it's absurd. It wouldn't prevent . . . Besides, you won't talk, I'm sure of that. Forgive me, Victorien. I am so horribly worried!" "You needn't fear any indiscretion on my part," I declared. "But I must remind you that Bérangère also has seen what there was to see." "Oh," he said, "she wouldn't understand!" "She wanted to come with me just now." "On no account, on no account! She's still a child and not fit to be trusted with a secret of this importance. . . . Now come along." But it so happened that, as we were leaving the workshop, we both of us at the same time saw Bérangère stealing along one of the walls of the Yard and stopping in front of a black curtain, which she suddenly pulled aside. "Bérangère!" shouted my uncle, angrily. The girl turned round and laughed. "I won't have it! I will not have it!" cried Noël Dorgeroux, rushing in her direction. "I won't have it, I tell you! Get out, you mischief!" Bérangère ran away, without, however, displaying any great perturbation. She leapt on a stack of bricks, scrambled on to a long plank which formed a bridge between two barrels and began to dance as she was wont to do, with her arms outstretched like a balancing-pole and her bust thrown slightly backwards. "You'll lose your balance," I said, while my uncle drew the curtain. "Never!" she replied, jumping up and down on her spring-board. She did not lose her balance. But the plank shifted and the pretty dancer came tumbling down among a heap of old packing-cases. I ran to her assistance and found her lying on the ground, looking very white. "Have you hurt yourself, Bérangère?" "No . . . hardly . . . just my ankle . . . perhaps I've sprained it." I lifted her, almost fainting, in my arms and carried her to a wooden bench a little farther away. She let me have my way and even put one arm round my neck. Her eyes were closed. Her red lips opened and I inhaled the cool fragrance of her breath. "Bérangère!" I whispered, trembling with emotion.