re the others?" he demanded piteously. "There were four
others, all valuable, all of great value."

"There was but this one when I came, m'sieu."

"Then Pauline has sold them--to keep that wretched child alive, to pay
for its board and keep and _tendresse--tendresse_, perhaps, on part of
some one while I--I have been neglected and kept short of the things I
might have had--the wine, the comforts, the fruits! Ah--but I am a
most unfortunate man, I who should be seigneur of the parish! Is it
not so, madame? Here have I been starving and yet--there was money,
you see--my sister had money all the time!"

Madame's lips moved; she said nothing. Far from having suffered
privation during her stay at Clairville, she had been able to provide
both for herself and the invalid, food and drink of the best quality
procurable in that part--the Archambaults having hoarded large
quantities of the supplies sent up by Poussette's "peep". The love of
acquisition for its own sake had spread even among the youngest members
of the family, and had one demanded suddenly of any of them the
simplest meal, one would have been met by violent protestations that
there was nothing in the house! To such an extent had this smuggling
and hoarding spread that in looking through the kitchen and cellars
madame had encountered a great store of provisions, mostly in good
condition; sacks and barrels full of vegetables, apples, winter pears
and nuts; tins full of bread and cakes, some mouldy, some fresh, and
various kegs and bottles full of wine and spirits.

"Then," he continued, "where are my choice books, my _editions de
luxe_? There were some splendid volumes here, rare, you understand,
worth money. She must have sold them also. I recollect when she
begged me to let her take them out of my room. And a violin--of the
most superb--that is gone! You know nothing of all these?"

"I know nothing--truly--m'sieu."

"And my cats? Who has dared to interfere with my cats, my dear
friends? Le Cid--Chateaubriand--Phedre--Montcalm--eh? What has been
done with them? And the doors, the little doors I had made for
them--nailed up, I see! Ah--ah, madame--this is your work! You have
killed them! Say then, am I not right? Miserable wretch of a woman!"

He was staggering now about the room between weakness and temper and
she assisted him to a chair.

"You have killed them!" he gasped repeatedly.

"No, m'sieu, not one. Indeed, m'sieu, I speak the