lf whether there was,
indeed, any foundation for her suspicions. And so on by degrees, until
her mind had no other occupation than to attempt, at every hour of the
day, to discover what was being done, what was being concealed from her
by Francoise. She would detect the most furtive movement of Francoise's
features, something contradictory in what she was saying, some desire
which she appeared to be screening. And she would shew her that she was
unmasked, by, a single word, which made Francoise turn pale, and which
my aunt seemed to find a cruel satisfaction in driving into her unhappy
servant's heart. And the very next Sunday a disclosure by Eulalie--like
one of those discoveries which suddenly open up an unsuspected field
for exploration to some new science which has hitherto followed only
the beaten paths--proved to my aunt that her own worst suspicions fell
a long way short of the appalling truth. "But Francoise ought to know
that," said Eulalie, "now that you have given her a carriage."

"Now that I have given her a carriage!" gasped my aunt.

"Oh, but I didn't know; I only thought so; I saw her go by yesterday in
her open coach, as proud as Artaban, on her way to Roussainville market.
I supposed that it must be Mme. Octave who had given it to her."

So on by degrees, until Francoise and my aunt, the quarry and the
hunter, could never cease from trying to forestall each other's devices.
My mother was afraid lest Francoise should develop a genuine hatred of
my aunt, who was doing everything in her power to annoy her. However
that might be, Francoise had come, more and more, to pay an infinitely
scrupulous attention to my aunt's least word and gesture. When she had
to ask her for anything she would hesitate, first, for a long time,
making up her mind how best to begin. And when she had uttered her
request, she would watch my aunt covertly, trying to guess from the
expression on her face what she thought of it, and how she would reply.
And in this way--whereas an artist who had been reading memoirs of the
seventeenth century, and wished to bring himself nearer to the great
Louis, would consider that he was making progress in that direction when
he constructed a pedigree that traced his own descent from some historic
family, or when he engaged in correspondence with one of the reigning
Sovereigns of Europe, and so would shut his eyes to the mistake he was
making in seeking to establish a similarity by an exact and the