“That can easily be arranged,” said Vinet.  “The new paper will soon restore the colonel’s rights, and make your salon more powerful in Provins than those of Tiphaine and company.”

“How so?” asked Sylvie.

While his wife was dealing and Vinet himself explaining the importance they would all gain by the publication of an independent newspaper, Pierrette was dissolved in tears; her heart and her mind were one in this matter; she felt and knew that her cousin was more to blame than she was.  The little country girl instinctively understood that charity and benevolence ought to be a complete offering.  She hated her handsome frocks and all the things that were made for her; she was forced to pay too dearly for such benefits.  She wept with vexation at having given cause for complaint against her, and resolved to behave in future in such a way as to compel her cousins to find no further fault with her.  The thought then came into her mind how grand Brigaut had been in giving her all his savings without a word.  Poor child! she fancied her troubles were now at their worst; she little knew that other misfortunes were even now being planned for her in the salon.

A few days later Pierrette had a writing-master.  She was taught to read, write, and cipher.  Enormous injury was thus supposed to be done to the Rogrons’ house.  Ink-spots were found on the tables, on the furniture, on Pierrette’s clothes; copy-books and pens were left about; sand was scattered everywhere, books were torn and dog’s-eared as the result of these lessons.  She was told in harsh terms that she would have to earn her own living, and not be a burden to others.  As she listened to these cruel remarks Pierrette’s throat contracted violently with acute pain, her heart throbbed.  She was forced to restrain her tears, or she was scolded for weeping and told it was an insult to the kindness of her magnanimous cousins.  Rogron had found the life that suited him.  He scolded Pierrette as he used to scold his clerks; he would call her when at play, and compel her to study; he made her repeat her lessons, and became himself the almost savage master of the poor child.  Sylvie, on her side, considered it a duty to teach Pierrette the little that she knew herself about women’s work.  Neither Rogron nor his sister had the slightest softness in their natures.  Their narrow minds, which found real pleasure in worrying the poor child, passed insensibly from outward kindness to extreme severity.  This severity was necessitated, they believed, by what they called the self-will of the child, which had not been broken when young and was very obstinate.  Her masters were ignorant how to give to their instructions a form suited to the intelligence of the pupil,—­a thing, by the bye, which marks the difference between public and private education.  The fault was far less with Pierrette than with her cousins.  It took her an infinite length of time to learn the rudiments.