When he had written the last words, M. Raindal gathered up the sheets. There were no less than six large pages covered with small handwriting and without a correction. CHAPTER XIV The Thursday lessons had started again. Although they had not altogether banished Egypt, that subject was suffering from a gradual disgrace. As a rule Mme. Chambannes had failed to read the prescribed books. Or else a stray word sent them both into a friendly gossip concerning the little happenings of the day: a new dress of Zozé's, which the master declared to his taste, her account of a dance or a play, and subjects that were even more trivial. Once they had run away from the arid regions of science, neither of the two found enough courage to return there. By common consent, they avoided the paths of conversation which might have led them back. It was only towards the end that Mme. Chambannes would exclaim: "Well!... Another fine lesson!... If it goes on like this, I shall know a lot at the end of the year!... Ah! What a deplorable professor you are!..." M. Raindal smiled. Then, if he had not already abused that license, he seized Zozé's hand and ardently pressed his lips against it. Wisely, she allowed him but two or three such tender outbursts at each lesson. Yet in her heart she was flattered. It amused her to see this famous, white-haired, man bending over her with love. His white hair contrasted with his skin and made it look pinker, and she found this play of color neat and pleasant to her eyes. On the third Thursday she inquired about Cyprien. Why did not M. Raindal introduce his brother to her? She was quite anxious to meet him. The master replied evasively: "Oh, my dear friend!"--as he called her now when they were alone and in the intimacy of their lessons--"my brother is a good fellow.... Yet I doubt very much whether you could get on together.... His temperament is brusque; he is an extremist, an absurd man.... Again, I noticed from certain signs that your absence of a month ago displeased him.... I prefer, therefore, not to risk myself in explanation of which I do not foresee any favorable results...." "Just as you say!" replied Zozé, who had only insisted out of politeness. M. Raindal nevertheless had almost spoken the truth. Uncle Cyprien had never omitted, during the last few weeks, any occasion to flay, _en passant,_ the discourteous ways of Mme. Rhâm-Bâhan.