"Listen!" she said more affectionately.... "Listen to me, mother! I assure you that there is as yet no danger.... Therefore, don't worry before there is any need to.... And if you'll believe me, let us meet father with pleasant faces; we mustn't tease him.... I know him; we would only succeed in pushing him still deeper into the intimacy of those people." "And later?..." "Later?... we shall see. We shall discuss it together and find out what is best under the circumstances." "Then you are willing that I should talk with you now and then about...." She hesitated. "Well ... of this ... of this affair?" Thérèse rose to kiss her mother and held her tightly. "Of course, dear mother!... You are so funny!... Why not?" A tear rolled down the cheek of Mme. Raindal. "I don't know.... You have such a wicked air, you and your father ... sometimes, each at your desk, with never a word for me when I come in.... Upon my word I am afraid of you both!" And she left, taking short, weary steps, to warn Brigitte in time. At the same time, Mme. Chambannes, to please M. Raindal, was giving him the names of her guests. "I assure you, dear master; it will be absolutely among ourselves.... My Uncle and Aunt Panhias, our friend, young M. de Meuze, and perhaps the abbé Touronde...." She had hardly said his name when the latter entered the smoking-room. He evinced great pleasure at meeting M. Raindal. Behind his spectacles, his eyes shone with joy. Zozé started them in conversation and ran out to dress. "Yes," M. Raindal said politely, "your articles seemed to me excellent, well thought out, replete with learning.... I am surprised--should I admit it?--that with this obvious gift for science, you have not made a, what shall I say? a more voluminous, more considerable literary output...." "Oh, dear master, you are too indulgent, too ... too kind!..." the abbé stammered, his voice quivering with satisfaction. He then justified himself eloquently for his lack of literary production. Could anyone rightly charge him with being lazy? No, his sterility was due to other causes. First of all, there was the orphanage which required his assiduous, daily care, care of all sorts, financial as well as moral, literary as much as administrative. Then, there were his enemies, his numberless enemies who, had he published more works, would not have failed to discover in that fact a new motive for calumny, as they found some in every act of his, even the most virtuous, even the most innocent!