and they were so
full of meaning that the children became frightened.

Caravan, to explain matters, said: "She has been somewhat ill, but she
is better now; quite well, indeed, are you not, mother?"

Then the good woman, continuing to walk, replied in a husky voice, as
though it came from a distance: "It was syncope. I heard you all the
while."

An embarrassing silence followed. They entered the dining-room, and in a
few minutes all sat down to an improvised dinner.

Only M. Braux had retained his self-possession. His gorilla features
grinned wickedly, while he let fall some words of double meaning which
painfully disconcerted everyone.

But the door bell kept ringing every second, and Rosalie, distracted,
came to call Caravan, who rushed out, throwing down his napkin. His
brother-in-law even asked him whether it was not one of his reception
days, to which he stammered out in answer: "No, only a few packages;
nothing more."

A parcel was brought in, which he began to open carelessly, and the
mourning announcements with black borders appeared unexpectedly.
Reddening up to the very eyes, he closed the package hurriedly and
pushed it under his waistcoat.

His mother had not seen it! She was looking intently at her clock which
stood on the mantelpiece, and the embarrassment increased in midst of
a dead silence. Turning her wrinkled face towards her daughter, the old
woman, in whose eyes gleamed malice, said: "On Monday you must take me
away from here, so that I can see your little girl. I want so much
to see her." Madame Braux, her features all beaming, exclaimed: "Yes,
mother, that I will," while Madame Caravan, the younger, who had turned
pale, was ready to faint with annoyance. The two men, however, gradually
drifted into conversation and soon became embroiled in a political
discussion. Braux maintained the most revolutionary and communistic
doctrines, his eyes glowing, and gesticulating and throwing about his
arms. "Property, sir," he said, "is a robbery perpetrated on the working
classes; the land is the common property of every man; hereditary rights
are an infamy and a disgrace." But here he suddenly stopped, looking as
if he had just said something foolish, then added in softer tones: "But
this is not the proper moment to discuss such things."

The door was opened and Dr. Chenet appeared. For a moment he seemed
bewildered, but regaining his usual smirking expression of countenance,
he jauntily approached