the last. The two old men arrived at the same hour, the same game
of piquet was played, the same speeches made by the players, the
sum lost by Adelaide's friend was not less considerable than on
the previous evening; only Hippolyte, a little bolder, ventured
to chat with the young girl.

A week passed thus, and in the course of it the painter's
feelings and Adelaide's underwent the slow and delightful
transformations which bring two souls to a perfect understanding.
Every day the look with which the girl welcomed her friend grew
more intimate, more confiding, gayer, and more open; her voice
and manner became more eager and more familiar. They laughed and
talked together, telling each other their thoughts, speaking of
themselves with the simplicity of two children who have made
friends in a day, as much as if they had met constantly for three
years. Schinner wished to be taught piquet. Being ignorant and a
novice, he, of course, made blunder after blunder, and like the
old man, he lost almost every game. Without having spoken a word
of love the lovers knew that they were all in all to one another.
Hippolyte enjoyed exerting his power over his gentle little
friend, and many concessions were made to him by Adelaide, who,
timid and devoted to him, was quite deceived by the assumed fits
of temper, such as the least skilled lover and the most guileless
girl can affect; and which they constantly play off, as spoilt
children abuse the power they owe to their mother's affection.
Thus all familiarity between the girl and the old Count was soon
put a stop to. She understood the painter's melancholy, and the
thoughts hidden in the furrows on his brow, from the abrupt tone
of the few words he spoke when the old man unceremoniously kissed
Adelaide's hands or throat.