“That miserable little wretch will kill me,” she said.

Sylvie’s severity to her cousin reached the point of refined cruelty, and made the deplorable condition of the poor girl worse daily.  She had fever regularly, and the pains in her head became intolerable.  By the end of the week even the visitors at the house noticed her suffering face, which would have touched to pity all selfishness less cruel than theirs.  It happened that Doctor Neraud, possibly by Vinet’s advice, did not come to the house during that week.  The colonel, knowing himself suspected by Sylvie, was afraid to risk his marriage by showing any solicitude for Pierrette.  Bathilde explained the visible change in the girl by her natural growth.  But at last, one Sunday evening, when Pierrette was in the salon, her sufferings overcame her and she fainted away.  The colonel, who first saw her going, caught her in his arms and carried her to a sofa.

“She did it on purpose,” said Sylvie, looking at Mademoiselle Habert and the rest who were playing boston with her.

“I assure you that your cousin is very ill,” said the colonel.

“She seemed well enough in your arms,” Sylvie said to him in a low voice, with a savage smile.

“The colonel is right,” said Madame de Chargeboeuf.  “You ought to send for a doctor.  This morning at church every one was speaking, as they came out, of Mademoiselle Lorrain’s appearance.”

“I am dying,” said Pierrette.

Desfondrilles called to Sylvie and told her to unfasten her cousin’s gown.  Sylvie went up to the girl, saying, “It is only a tantrum.”

She unfastened the gown and was about to touch the corset, when Pierrette, roused by the danger, sat up with superhuman strength, exclaiming, “No, no, I will go to bed.”

Sylvie had, however, touched the corset and felt the papers.  She let Pierrette go, saying to the company: 

“What do you think now of her illness?  I tell you it is all a pretence.  You have no idea of the perversity of that child.”

After the card-playing was over she kept Vinet from following the other guests; she was furious and wanted vengeance, and was grossly rude to the colonel when he bade her good-night.  Gouraud threw a look at the lawyer which threatened him to the depths of his being and seemed to put a ball in his entrails.  Sylvie told Vinet to remain.  When they were alone, she said,—­

“Never in my life, never in my born days, will I marry the colonel.”

“Now that you have come to that decision I may speak,” said the lawyer.  “The colonel is my friend, but I am more yours than his.  Rogron has done me services which I can never forget.  I am as strong a friend as I am an enemy.  Once in the Chamber I shall rise to power, and I will make your brother a receiver-general.  Now swear to me, before I say more, that you will never repeat what I tell you.”  (Sylvie made an affirmative sign.) “In the first place, the brave colonel is a gambler—­”