's mother seemed quite unaffected by the dreadful
avowal. She was still moving her hands at random up and down
the keyboard. Then presently:

"You must enjoy yourself finely to-day, boys," she cried. "We
will all go out. Shall I take you to the fair at Saint-Cloud?"

Yes, Edgar was all for going, because of the roundabouts.

Madame Ewans rose from the piano, patted her pale flaxen hair
in place with a pretty gesture, and gave a sidelong look in the
mirror as she passed.

"I'm going to dress," she told them; "I shall not be long."

While she was dressing, Edgar sat at the piano trying to pick
out a tune from an opera bouffe, and Jean, perched uncomfortably
on the edge of his chair, stared about the room at a host of
strange and sumptuous objects that seemed in some mysterious
way to be part and parcel of their beautiful owner, and affected
him almost as strangely as she herself had done.

Preceded by a faint waft of scent and a rustle of silk, she
reappeared, tying the strings of the hat that made a dainty diadem
above her smiling eyes.

Edgar looked at her curiously:

"Why, mother, there's something... I don't know what. . . something
that alters you."

She glanced in the mirror, examining her hair, which showed pale
violet shadows amid the flaxen plaits.

"Oh! it's nothing," she said; "only I have put some powder in
my hair. Like the Empress," she added, and broke into another
smile.

As she was drawing on her gloves, a ring was heard, and the maid
came in to tell her mistress that Monsieur Delbeque was waiting
to see her.

Madame Ewans pouted and declared she could not receive him, whereupon
the maid spoke a few words in a very peremptory whisper. Madame
Ewans shrugged her shoulders.

"Stay where you are!" she told the boys, and passed into the
dining-room, whence the murmur of two voices could presently be
heard.

Jean asked Edgar, under his breath, who the gentleman was.

"Monsieur Delbeque," Edgar informed him. "He keeps horses and a
carriage. He deals in pigs. One evening he took us to the theatre,
mother and me."

Jean was surprised and rather shocked to find Monsieur Delbeque
dealt in pigs. But he hid his surprise and asked if he was a
relation.

"Oh! no," said Edgar, "he's one of our friends. It's a long time...
at least a year we have known him."

Jean, harking back to his first idea, put the question:

"Have you ever seen him selling his pigs?"

"How stupid you are!" retorted Edg