“Yes, certainly,” replied her sister.  “I met them on the boulevards opposite Bignon’s.”

Thereupon, glorying in her victory over Malignon, whose face wore an embarrassed smile, Madame Deberle called out:  “You can come back, Pauline; I have finished.”

Malignon, who had a box at the Folies-Dramatiques for the following night, now gallantly placed it at Madame Deberle’s service, apparently not feeling the slightest ill-will towards her; moreover, they were always quarreling.  Pauline wished to know if she might go to see the play that was running, and as Malignon laughed and shook his head, she declared it was very silly; authors ought to write plays fit for girls to see.  She was only allowed such entertainments as La Dame Blanche and the classic drama could offer.

Meantime, the ladies had ceased watching the children, and all at once Lucien began to raise terrible shrieks.

“What have you done to him, Jeanne?” asked Helene.

“I have done nothing, mamma,” answered the little girl.  “He has thrown himself on the ground.”

The truth was, the children had just set out for the famous glaciers.  As Jeanne pretended that they were reaching the mountains, they had lifted their feet very high, as though to step over the rocks.  Lucien, however, quite out of breath with his exertions, at last made a false step, and fell sprawling in the middle of an imaginary ice-field.  Disgusted, and furious with child-like rage, he no sooner found himself on the ground than he burst into tears.

“Lift him up,” called Helene.

“He won’t let me, mamma.  He is rolling about.”

And so saying, Jeanne drew back, as though exasperated and annoyed by such a display of bad breeding.  He did not know how to play; he would certainly cover her with dirt.  Her mouth curled, as though she were a duchess compromising herself by such companionship.  Thereupon Madame Deberle, irritated by Lucien’s continued wailing, requested her sister to pick him up and coax him into silence.  Nothing loth, Pauline ran, cast herself down beside the child, and for a moment rolled on the ground with him.  He struggled with her, unwilling to be lifted, but she at last took him up by the arms, and to appease him, said, “Stop crying, you noisy fellow; we’ll have a swing!”

Lucien at once closed his lips, while Jeanne’s solemn looks vanished, and a gleam of ardent delight illumined her face.  All three ran towards the swing, but it was Pauline who took possession of the seat.

“Push, push!” she urged the children; and they pushed with all the force of their tiny hands; but she was heavy, and they could scarcely stir the swing.

“Push!” she urged again.  “Oh, the big sillies, they can’t!”