ixteen, and employed his idle hours in hating and
persecuting her. Justin's happiest moments were those when by means of
some gross falsehood he succeeded in getting her scolded. Whenever he
could tread on her feet, or push her roughly, pretending not to have
seen her, he laughed and felt the delight of those crafty folks who
rejoice at other people's misfortunes. Miette, however, would stare at
him with her large black childish eyes gleaming with anger and silent
scorn, which checked the cowardly youngster's sneers. In reality he was
terribly afraid of his cousin.

The young girl was just attaining her eleventh year when her aunt
Eulalie suddenly died. From that day everything changed in the house.
Rebufat gradually come to treat her like a farm-labourer. He overwhelmed
her with all sorts of rough work, and made use of her as a beast of
burden. She never even complained, however, thinking that she had a debt
of gratitude to repay him. In the evening, when she was worn out with
fatigue, she mourned for her aunt, that terrible woman whose latent
kindliness she now realised. However, it was not the hard work that
distressed her, for she delighted in her strength, and took a pride in
her big arms and broad shoulders. What distressed her was her uncle's
distrustful surveillance, his continual reproaches, and the irritated
employer-like manner he assumed towards her. She had now become a
stranger in the house. Yet even a stranger would not have been so badly
treated as she was. Rebufat took the most unscrupulous advantage of
this poor little relative, whom he pretended to keep out of charity. She
repaid his harsh hospitality ten times over with her work, and yet never
a day passed but he grudged her the bread she ate. Justin especially
excelled in wounding her. Since his mother had been dead, seeing her
without a protector, he had brought all his evil instincts into play in
trying to make the house intolerable to her. The most ingenious torture
which he invented was to speak to Miette of her father. The poor girl,
living away from the world, under the protection of her aunt, who had
forbidden any one ever to mention the words "galleys" or "convict"
before her, hardly understood their meaning. It was Justin who explained
it to her by relating, in his own manner, the story of the murder of the
gendarme, and Chantegreil's conviction. There was no end to the horrible
particulars he supplied: the convicts had a cannonball fastened