"Listen, my dear lady.... I have enough esteem for you to tell you the truth.... Well, it seems to me that you are not in a position to derive any benefit from my teaching.... The Collège de France is a sort of seminary ... a seed-plot as it were, destined to form young savants ... you understand? The essential aim of the Collège de France is to...." "Yes, yes!" Zozé interrupted sadly.... "Yes, my dear master, I can see that my presence is not welcome to you.... But how can I learn for my trip to Egypt, next winter?... What can I do?... What can I do?" She hung on to her old project of "preparing for her trip"; she clung to it with an alluring obstinacy which was gradually getting on M. Raindal's nerves. Phew! Let her "prepare" as best she could! He moved away from her and, in his impatience, let fall his portfolio. Mme. Chambannes caught it deftly: "Poor M. Raindal!" she said, giving him one of the sidelong looks that were her natural way of looking at people.... "I am boring you, am I not?" He blushed for his brusqueness. "Not at all! I am trying to think of some way in which I can help you with your studies, with your preparatory reading...." Zozé frowned with attention. Suddenly, a joyful flicker swiftly passed over her caressing eyes. "I ... I have an idea," she insinuated; "an idea which has just occurred to me." "What is it?" "But it is so indiscreet!" "Never mind!... Tell me!" M. Raindal urged, feeling that his indulgence was once more wearing out. "No, I shall never dare!" She still hesitated, her eyes plunged into his. She decided to speak at last, when the carriage stopped at the door of his house. There it was: she wished, if it were not too much trouble, that the master would agree to come to the rue de Prony, once a week, on Thursdays, or at least twice a month, not to give her lessons--no, Zozé would never bring herself to risk so impudent a request--but to talk to her, simply, as a friend, to guide her in her studies, to indicate to her what she should read.... "You understand.... I know that it is very indiscreet.... Yet, if you would ... it would make me so happy!... Won't you, dear master?" Gently she laid her white-gloved hand on the master's knee, in a familiar gesture that had no touch of second-thought coquetry, as she had touched the knee of a kind grandfather--of her Uncle Panhias, for instance, when she was asking a favor. M. Raindal was intimidated and dared not move away. On seeing this slight, elegant creature bent before him in such an ingenuous and humbly craving attitude, he felt pleasantly troubled and mistook that feeling for regret, for tenderness. "Hm!... Madame!" he murmured, assuming again a pleasant voice.... "It would grieve me very much to displease you.... Nevertheless, you must realize that my obligations ... my work...." "Oh! I know, I know!" Zozé said with feigned resignation.