to have with her; how pitilessly he would
talk to her!

"I forbid you, Madame--understand what I say--I forbid you to dishonor
my brother!"

He was thinking of that all the way, as he watched the still leafless
trees glide along the embankment of the Saint-Germain railway. Sitting
opposite him, Risler chattered, chattered without pause. He talked about
the factory, about their business. They had gained forty thousand francs
each the last year; but it would be a different matter when the Press
was at work. "A rotary press, my little Frantz, rotary and dodecagonal,
capable of printing a pattern in twelve to fifteen colors at a single
turn of the wheel--red on pink, dark green on light green, without the
least running together or absorption, without a line lapping over its
neighbor, without any danger of one shade destroying or overshadowing
another. Do you understand that, little brother? A machine that is an
artist like a man. It means a revolution in the wallpaper trade."

"But," queried Frantz with some anxiety, "have you invented this Press
of yours yet, or are you still hunting for it?"

"Invented!--perfected! To-morrow I will show you all my plans. I have
also invented an automatic crane for hanging the paper on the rods
in the drying-room. Next week I intend to take up my quarters in
the factory, up in the garret, and have my first machine made there
secretly, under my own eyes. In three months the patents must be taken
out and the Press must be at work. You'll see, my little Frantz, it will
make us all rich-you can imagine how glad I shall be to be able to make
up to these Fromonts for a little of what they have done for me. Ah!
upon my word, the Lord has been too good to me."

Thereupon he began to enumerate all his blessings. Sidonie was the best
of women, a little love of a wife, who conferred much honor upon him.
They had a charming home. They went into society, very select society.
The little one sang like a nightingale, thanks to Madame Dobson's
expressive method. By the way, this Madame Dobson was another most
excellent creature. There was just one thing that disturbed poor Risler,
that was his incomprehensible misunderstanding with Sigismond. Perhaps
Frantz could help him to clear up that mystery.

"Oh! yes, I will help you, brother," replied Frantz through his clenched
teeth; and an angry flush rose to his brow at the idea that any one
could have suspected the open-heartedness, the loyalty, that wer