These events, produced at the Rogrons by Pierrette’s presence, were studied by Vinet and the colonel with the caution of foxes preparing to enter a poultry-yard and disturbed by seeing a strange fowl.  They both called from time to time,—­but seldom, so as not to alarm the old maid; they talked with Rogron under various pretexts, and made themselves masters of his mind with an affectation of reserve and modesty which the great Tartuffe himself would have respected.  The colonel and the lawyer were spending the evening with Rogron on the very day when Sylvie had refused in bitter language to let Pierrette go again to Madame Tiphaine’s, or elsewhere.  Being told of this refusal the colonel and the lawyer looked at each other with an air which seemed to say that they at least knew Provins well.

“Madame Tiphaine intended to insult you,” said the lawyer.  “We have long been warning Rogron of what would happen.  There’s no good to be got from those people.”

“What can you expect from the anti-national party!” cried the colonel, twirling his moustache and interrupting the lawyer.  “But, mademoiselle, if we had tried to warn you from those people you might have supposed we had some malicious motive in what we said.  If you like a game of cards in the evening, why don’t you have it at home; why not play your boston here, in your own house?  Is it impossible to fill the places of those idiots, the Julliards and all the rest of them?  Vinet and I know how to play boston, and we can easily find a fourth.  Vinet might present his wife to you; she is charming, and, what is more, a Chargeboeuf.  You will not be so exacting as those apes of the Upper town; you won’t require a good little housewife, who is compelled by the meanness of her family to do her own work, to dress like a duchess.  Poor woman, she has the courage of a lion and the meekness of a lamb.”

Sylvie Rogron showed her long yellow teeth as she smiled on the colonel, who bore the sight heroically and assumed a flattered air.

“If we are only four we can’t play boston every night,” said Sylvie.

“Why not?  What do you suppose an old soldier of the Empire like me does with himself?  And as for Vinet, his evenings are always free.  Besides, you’ll have plenty of other visitors; I warrant you that,” he added, with a rather mysterious air.

“What you ought to do,” said Vinet, “is to take an open stand against the ministerialists of Provins and form an opposition to them.  You would soon see how popular that would make you; you would have a society about you at once.  The Tiphaines would be furious at an opposition salon.  Well, well, why not laugh at others, if others laugh at you?—­and they do; the clique doesn’t mince matters in talking about you.”

“How’s that?” demanded Sylvie.