"Oh! If you please, madame!" Thérèse interrupted firmly. "You have sought an explanation. Allow me to finish.... Yes, you found it quite natural to disunite us, to monopolize this poor man, to drag him in your train, out of vainglory, out of I know not what vain fantasy and without any excuse.... To-day, this catastrophe brings him back to us.... You should find it natural that we should protect him and that, seeing him rescued, we do not wish to lose him again. Was it due to my uncle's death or to other emotions with which I am unacquainted that my father seemed, on our return, very weary and much aged. He who is usually so courageous in the hours of sorrow, weeps at every opportunity, he has sudden fits of heavy sobs, like a child.... He needs quiet and a well-regulated, peaceful life. Gradually he will return to his family and to his work, and you to your pleasures, which his absence will not appreciably diminish, I should think." Zozé blushed imperceptibly under the bantering tone of Thérèse's last words. Mlle. Raindal took advantage of her confusion and added: "Leave him to us now, madame! I assure you, it will be better thus.... It will be both straightforward and charitable!" They studied each other in silence for a while and the scorn in their glances seemed a mutual reflection. "Not at her best in mourning dress, this Mlle. Raindal!" Mme. Chambannes thought to herself. Thérèse saw nothing on the charming face but signs of baseness and stupidity. The sound of a key slipped in the keyhole caused them both to lower their eyelids. "Will you excuse me, madame?" Thérèse said, with a curt nod. Without pausing for an answer she walked to the hall, closed the door of the room and whispered in a short enervated voice, while M. Raindal put down his gloves and walking-stick: "Father, Mme. Chambannes is here!" "Where? Where did you say?" M. Raindal stammered, his forehead purple. "In the drawing-room!" Thérèse replied, eyeing him sharply. "Do you wish to see her?" "Ah! It would be only decent, it seems to me.... What do you think?" He sought anxiously in his daughter's eyes a permission, an approval. "If you like, father!" Thérèse said less sharply. "Very well, then!" the master concluded, but he did not budge. An involuntary look in his eyes begged the girl to go away, not to remain treacherously on watch behind the door. She understood his distrust. Why oppose him, why upset him in the course of this test whose issue, favorable or not, would at all events be significant. She gave him a friendly look and said: "Au revoir! I am going back to my room!" He entered the drawing-room, closing the door behind him after having made sure that the hall was really empty. "My dear master!" Zozé murmured tenderly, as she advanced towards him. At the same time, either as a last maneuver to avoid defeat, or from an impulse of filial compassion, she threw herself in his arms.