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She was interested in everything her governess had to tell her, but her beautiful eyes betrayed the greatest interest when Mlle. Belhomme talked of her grandfather. Many times Perrine had spoken of M. Vulfran's illness to Rosalie, but she had only received vague replies to her queries; now, from her governess, she learned all the details regarding his affliction.
He had managed to give them two little knocks: First, there was a gentle scolding for them being late; secondly, he had let them see that he, a foreman, had noticed that they had been unable to hide their discomfiture and that the girl had noticed it, too. And they were M. Vulfran's nephews! Ah! ha!
The moment she had translated the last word, without even waiting to write the polite ending, she gathered up her sheets and went quickly to M. Vulfran's office. She found him walking back and forth the length of the room, counting his steps as much to avoid bumping against the wall as to curb his impatience. "You have been very slow," he said. "The letter was long and difficult," she replied.
The other, Madame Bretoneux was M. Vulfran's married sister who had married a Boulogne merchant, who in turn had been a cement and coal merchant, insurance agent and maritime agent, but with all his trades had never acquired riches. She wanted her brother's wealth as much for love of the money as to get it away from her sister-in-law, whom she hated.
The two mothers were struggling and scheming in every possible way, each to have her son alone inherit one day or another the great works of Maraucourt and the fortune which it was rumored would be more than a hundred million francs. The one, Mme. Stanislaus Paindavoine, was the wife of M. Vulfran's eldest brother, a big linen merchant.
But there were those who wished that he was dead so that they themselves could take M. Vulfran's place when he died. "Now, my dear child," said the governess, "you understand you live here in the home of M. Vulfran and you must be very discreet in this matter and not talk about it to Casimir's mother.
"If you don't believe it," they were told, "you've only to look at Talouel's face and M. Vulfran's nephews." Yet there were some who would not believe that the exile would return. The old man had been too hard on him. He had not deserved to be sent away to India because he had made a few debts. His own family had cast him aside, so he had a little family of his own out in India.
When I left the cemetery after she was buried all the money I had was five francs thirty-five centimes, which was not enough for me to take the train. So I decided to make the journey on foot." Monsieur Vulfran's fingers tightened over hers. She did not understand this movement. "Oh, forgive me; I am boring you," she said. "I am telling you things perhaps that are of no interest."
"I may as well tell you that for a long time I have wanted someone intelligent to be near me, one who is discreet and whom I can trust. This young girl seems to have these qualities. I am sure that she is intelligent, and I have already had the proof that I can trust her." M. Vulfran's tone was significant. Talouel could not misunderstand the sense of his words.
The tyrant who wanted to be everything in the works, not only at Maraucourt, but at Saint-Pipoy, at Bacourt, at Flexelles, everywhere, and who would employ any means to uphold his authority, even disputing it with that of Monsieur Vulfran's. "I ask you what Monsieur Fabry has been doing?" he asked, lowering his voice. "I cannot tell you because I do not know myself.
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