"Hm! Is it indiscreet to ask where you are dining?" Thérèse dared no longer to deny. "We are going to the rue de Prony, to Mme. Chambannes', a lady whom we met at the dance at the Saulvard's." "Chambannes! How do you spell it?" Cyprien asked, with a suspicious grimace. Thérèse spelled it out for him. The younger M. Raindal frowned. "Chambannes, Chambannes!" he repeated, as if he were testing the sound of a name with which his ear was not familiar. Finally he gave it up. "Well, au revoir!" he said, "till to-morrow!" He shook hands with them and walked down the stairs, still muttering to himself, "Chambannes, Chambannes!" In spite of its general aspect, the name sounded vaguely Jewish to him. Then, he reflected, everybody knew how cunning Jews were in disguising their original names and changing them into French names. They called themselves Duval, Durand or Dubourg and hid under those Gallic, Roman or Frankish syllables, names bestowed on the mount of Sinai, and Uncle Cyprien boasted of an exceptionally good scent when it came to unearthing such deceptions. He had not even admitted the purity of his own family name until after a thorough search in the libraries. The moment he reached the street, therefore, he hurried towards the Brasserie Klapproth where Schleifmann could, he felt sure, throw some light on his suspicions. * * * * * "How late you are!" the Galician exclaimed, as he started to enjoy a plateful of roast veal and jelly. Uncle Cyprien sat beside him and studied the bill of fare. "Yes!" he said. "I am late; I wanted to dine with my brother ... but they are dining out, at Mme. Chambannes'." "Rue de Prony?" Schleifmann asked. "Then you know the lady?" Cyprien inquired. "Oh! very little.... She is charming.... I meet her sometimes at the house of one of my pupils' parents, young Pums, the son of M. Pums, assistant manager of the Bank of Galicia." "Well, I never ..." Cyprien exclaimed. "I even knew that your brother was to dine there.... Mme. Chambannes invited Mme. Pums and gave her the names of the other guests.... She seems to think a great deal of your brother." "You knew it and you said nothing of it to me?" said Raindal, with a reproachful glance. Schleifmann repressed a smile. "Well, no! _You_ said nothing about it.... I assumed that your brother had not told you ... out of discretion, you understand?" Cyprien became thoughtful. "Listen, Schleifmann.... Tell me the truth!... What kind of people are these Chambannes?... Are they all right?" Schleifmann pretended to have some trouble in swallowing the last mouthful, in order to gain time for thinking. Of course, he could not tell a falsehood to his friend. But why, on the other hand, should he further excite this savage ill-will, ever ready to spring up; why should he help to stir up family troubles? He chose to answer with harmless fibs and did it with studied indifference.