d in bitter language to let Pierrette go again to Madame
Tiphaine's, or elsewhere. Being told of this refusal the colonel and the
lawyer looked at each other with an air which seemed to say that they at
least knew Provins well.

"Madame Tiphaine intended to insult you," said the lawyer. "We have long
been warning Rogron of what would happen. There's no good to be got from
those people."

"What can you expect from the anti-national party!" cried the colonel,
twirling his moustache and interrupting the lawyer. "But, mademoiselle,
if we had tried to warn you from those people you might have supposed we
had some malicious motive in what we said. If you like a game of cards
in the evening, why don't you have it at home; why not play your boston
here, in your own house? Is it impossible to fill the places of those
idiots, the Julliards and all the rest of them? Vinet and I know how to
play boston, and we can easily find a fourth. Vinet might present his
wife to you; she is charming, and, what is more, a Chargeboeuf. You will
not be so exacting as those apes of the Upper town; _you_ won't require
a good little housewife, who is compelled by the meanness of her family
to do her own work, to dress like a duchess. Poor woman, she has the
courage of a lion and the meekness of a lamb."

Sylvie Rogron showed her long yellow teeth as she smiled on the colonel,
who bore the sight heroically and assumed a flattered air.

"If we are only four we can't play boston every night," said Sylvie.

"Why not? What do you suppose an old soldier of the Empire like me does
with himself? And as for Vinet, his evenings are always free. Besides,
you'll have plenty of other visitors; I warrant you that," he added,
with a rather mysterious air.

"What you ought to do," said Vinet, "is to take an open stand against
the ministerialists of Provins and form an opposition to them. You would
soon see how popular that would make you; you would have a society about
you at once. The Tiphaines would be furious at an opposition salon.
Well, well, why not laugh at others, if others laugh at you?--and they
do; the clique doesn't mince matters in talking about you."

"How's that?" demanded Sylvie.

In the provinces there is always a valve or a faucet through which
gossip leaks from one social set to another. Vinet knew all the slurs
cast upon the Rogrons in the salons from which they were now excluded.
The deputy-judge and archaeologist Desfondrilles belonged