"What about your brother?" he asked suddenly. "What does your brother think of all this?" "My brother? Don't talk to me about him! He bores me perhaps even more than you do, my dear man! I don't know what is the matter with him this last fortnight.... But I should not be so very much surprised if someone were to tell me that the departure of Mme. Rhâm-Bâhan is at the bottom of it.... You should see his temper!... and his face! In short, he is not to be spoken to." Cyprien added confidentially: "And not a word, please, about this mining business, in case you happen to meet him! There would be everlasting sermons and warnings!" Schleifmann promised to keep the secret. Uncle Cyprien lifted up one hand in a gesture of disgust. "My brother! Ah! la! la! he is a bore, regular bore, these days!" CHAPTER XIII For once Uncle Cyprien had not exaggerated. Ever since the day of their disappointment in the rue de Prony, M. Raindal had been unable to rid himself of a feeling of hostility whenever he saw his brother; either because the sight of Uncle Cyprien recalled an unpleasant memory or because the master feared his brother's questions. At each visit he showed him a more bitter coldness. The departure of Mme. Chambannes had dealt M. Raindal's heart a blow from which it was still throbbing. Of course, a week later he had received a few lines from Zozé, in which she apologized for her discourteous flight; she had had some small anxieties which she could no doubt explain in person the next time they met. But the very vagueness of this postponement caused the master as much impatience as if the young woman had kept back every particular concerning her flight. Little anxieties! Surely they were not caused by Chambannes who was still away, and far from Paris. By whom then, and of what sort were they? Money troubles? A very unlikely hypothesis. Family troubles? No, since the only relation Mme. Chambannes had, had gone with her to Les Frettes. Love troubles? M. Raindal vehemently repulsed this latter solution which, in reality, excited his anger more than his incredulity. Whenever the idea of it came within the horizon of his dreams, he bent all his effort towards its destruction as if it were an absurd nightmare.