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Updated: June 6, 2025
Adele brought one of her own night-caps when she returned with the warming-pan, and Pierrette, who had never slept in anything but the coarsest linen sheets, was amazed at the fineness and softness of the cotton ones. When she was fairly in bed and tucked up, Adele, going downstairs with Sylvie, could not refrain from saying, "All she has isn't worth three francs, mademoiselle."
Thorpe's was a dunce's cap, and Fraulein's a giddy Pierrette of black and white. Bobby had a military cap. With eager fingers Ferdinand William Otto opened his; he had never tasted this delicious paper-cap joy before. It was a crown, a sturdy bit of gold paper, cut into points and set with red paste jewels a gem of a crown. He was charmed.
The colonel was torturing her; she did not know what to think of him. "Men are so false!" she cried, as she went to bed. Pierrette had given herself a frightful blow on the head, just above the ear, at the spot where young girls part their hair when they put their "front hair" in curlpapers. The next day there was a large swelling. "God has punished you," said Sylvie at the breakfast table.
"You disobeyed me; you treated me with disrespect in leaving the room before I had finished my sentence; you got what you deserved." "Nevertheless," said Rogron, "she ought to put on a compress of salt and water." "Oh, it is nothing at all, cousin," said Pierrette. The poor child had reached a point where even such a remark seemed to her a proof of kindness.
He was Henri Regnier, known to his intimates as "Monsieur le President," because he had once, by personating the President of the Chamber of Deputies, robbed the Crédit Lyonnais of one hundred thousand francs, and served five years at Toulon for it. And across at him the pretty Pierrette shot a quick look of recognition and laughed. "The President" nodded slightly, and laughed back in return.
As she was gazing with all her eyes, the equerry, taking off his hat with great politeness, begged her to enter the vehicle. Pierrette had too much good sense to make any needless fuss. She simply slipped off her sabots, put on her shoes with the silver buckles, folded her work, and, assisted by the footman's arm, stepped into the carriage as if to the manner born.
Sylvie did in fact spend the next three nights on her legs, and each evening in watching the innocent colonel, without discovering either in him or in Pierrette, or in the house or out of it, anything that betrayed their understanding. She sent Pierrette to confession, and seized that moment to search the child's room, with the method and penetration of a spy or a custom-house officer.
Sylvie, who now indulged in the idea of marrying, began to consider Pierrette as an obstacle. The girl was nearly fourteen; the pallid whiteness of her skin, a symptom of illness entirely overlooked by the ignorant old maid, made her exquisitely lovely. Sylvie took it into her head to balance the cost which Pierrette had been to them by making a servant of her.
"Poor Jacques," she said to herself, "he does not know the hole into which I have now fallen!" Sylvie had heard Pierrette, and she had also heard Brigaut under her window. She jumped out of bed and rushed to the window to look through the blinds into the square and there she saw, in the moonlight, a man hurrying in the direction of the colonel's house, in front of which Brigaut happened to stop.
At sight of her cousin, Sylvie's skin turned green and yellow, her bile was in commotion. She looked at the floor of the corridor and declared that Pierrette ought to rub it. "I will rub it now if you wish," said the little angel, not aware of the injury such work may do to a young girl. The dining-room was irreproachably in order.
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