customed to fall into the easy attitudes of an old
friend who does not stand on ceremony. But now he seemed suddenly to
rouse himself and to show the alertness of men who do their best to be
agreeable, who take thought as to what they wish to say, and who, before
certain persons, seek for the best phrases in which to express
their ideas and render them attractive. No longer did he allow the
conversation to lag, but did his best to keep it bright and interesting;
and when he had made the Countess and her daughter laugh gaily, when he
felt that he had touched their emotions, or when they ceased to work in
order to listen to him, he felt a thrill of pleasure, an assurance of
success, which rewarded him for his efforts.

He came now every time that he knew they were alone, and never, perhaps,
had he passed such delightful evenings.

Madame de Guilleroy, whose continual fears were soothed by this
assiduity, made fresh efforts to attract him and to keep him near her.
She refused invitations to dinners in the city, she did not go to balls,
nor to the theaters, in order to have the joy of throwing into the
telegraph-box, on going out at three o'clock, a little blue despatch
which said: "Come to-night." At first, wishing to give him earlier the
tete-a-tete that he desired, she had sent her daughter to bed as soon
as it was ten o'clock. Then after one occasion when he had appeared
surprised at this and had begged laughingly that Annette should not
be treated any longer like a naughty little girl, she had allowed her
daughter a quarter of an hour's grace, then half an hour, and finally a
whole hour. Bertin never remained long after the young girl had retired;
it was as if half the charm that held him there had departed with her.
He would soon take the little low seat that he preferred beside the
Countess and lay his cheek against her knee with a caressing movement.
She would give him one of her hands, which he clasped in his, and the
fever of his spirit would suddenly be abated; he ceased to talk, and
appeared to find repose in tender silence from the effort he had made.

Little by little the Countess, with the keenness of feminine instinct,
comprehended that Annette attracted him almost as much as she herself.
This did not anger her; she was glad that between them he could find
something of that domestic happiness which he lacked; and she imprisoned
him between them, as it were, playing the part of tender mother in such
a way t