Those three words constituted her favorite motto at Les Frettes, a permanent justification for all the fantasies of dress and behavior which her gloom and her idleness invented. She took advantage of it, the next morning, to dispense with Anselme's services for their ride. The coachman's presence had obviously paralyzed M. Raindal. "A very good idea!" the master said approvingly, as soon as they had started. "Besides he was of no use at all, that fellow." Thereupon he seized his little pupil's hand so brusquely and violently that Notpou--such was the almost Egyptian-sounding name which Mme. Chambannes had bestowed upon her pony--shied with fear, under the pain from his suddenly pulled bit. "You must keep quiet, dear master?" Zozé chided, as she brought the animal back to its pace. "You are scaring Notpou.... You'll have us tipped over!" "It was such a long time!" M. Raindal stammered. She smiled indulgently. Suddenly emboldened, the master asked, in the absent-minded tone he used on such occasions: "And the Messrs. de Meuze?... Did you have any news from them?" Mme. Chambannes replied, making an effort to repress the blood she felt rushing to her face: "None!... I believe that they are at Deauville until the end of the month, as I told you last week.... They were to arrive there the day before I left Paris." M. Raindal, his hands hanging, directed a studious look at her. "In that case, they are not coming here?" "Not that I know of, during August," Zozé replied, having almost conquered her blush. "After that, it will be the shooting season.... So ... you see!" "Quite!" the master murmured, while in his heart he ragingly abused Thérèse. Ah! how he wished she were here, for an instant only, so that she could hear this! That was the way people made accusations and spread calumny, without proofs, acting upon suspicions and uncertain jealousies! "A woman who publicly gave herself a lover!" M. Raindal repeated to himself. Publicly! A lover! Where?... At Deauville, perhaps! (For, gradually, the master had narrowed down his suspicions and centered their watchfulness upon the head of Gerald, the only young man, after all, whom Mme. Chambannes saw frequently.) Yes! At Deauville, fifty leagues from Les Frettes, neglecting his love affair for a month and even more! A fine lover indeed!... How mean and unfair people were! He let out a contemptuous laugh. "Are you laughing, dear master?" Mme. Chambannes inquired. "I am laughing," he replied between two kisses, "I am laughing at the wickedness, or more exactly at the stupidity of mankind!" * * * * * The daily schedule soon became regular. Whenever the heat did not prevent it, the morning was spent in driving.