"I am not such a child!" exclaimed Aline, rising with a vexed air;
"I know what I have seen. They were talking a long time together in the
drawing-room last evening, and I am sure they were speaking of me."

Madame de Bergenheim burst into laughter, which increased her sister-in-
law's vexation, for she was less and less disposed to be treated like a
young girl.

"Poor Aline!" said the Baroness, at last; "they were talking about the
fifth portrait; Monsieur de Gerfaut can not find the name of the original
among the old papers, and he thinks he did not belong to the family. You
know, that old face with the gray beard, near the door."

The young girl bent her head, like a child who sees her naughty sister
throw down her castle of cards.

"And how do you know?" said she, after a moment's reflection. "You were
at the piano. How could you hear at the other end of the room what
Monsieur de Gerfaut was saying?"

It was Clemence's turn to hang her head, for it seemed to her that the
girl had suspected the constant attention which, under an affectation of
indifference, never allowed her to lose one of Octave's words. As usual,
she concealed her embarrassment by redoubling her sarcasm.

"Very likely," said she, "I was mistaken, and you may be right after all.
What day shall we have the honor of saluting Madame la Vicomtesse de
Gerfaut?"

"I foolishly told you what I imagined, and you at once make fun of me,"