'I have called for Christophe, my sister . . .' he
mumbled, combing his curly beard with his fingers.
'He still lives!' she remarked satirically; after which
there was silence for more than a minute.
Then Jouse grasped the bull by the horns: <I am
truly sorry for all that has happened. I admit that I
found myself in a rage ... I was terribly anxious
about my poor wife ... Eh bien, there it is, I apolo-
gize, and more than that no brother can do; so now I
hope we are friends again, Germaine.' And he clum-
sily bent down and kissed her on both cheeks, for
a family feud was not to be thought of.
Madame Roustan accepted this embrace with
coldness; nevertheless she enquired about Marie and
would have the latest details of the child, for she had a
vast curiosity in regard to all matrimonial matters.
Jouse told her as well as he could, which was not very
well it must be admitted, and after she had heard
him out to the end, she announced her intention of
paying them a visit.
'No doubt had I been in charge,5 she said sternly,
call these complications would never have happened.'
So Jouse knew that the breach was now healed, for
which he was more than a little thankful.
But one other thing, and the hardest of all, he must
say to his sister before he left her: 'Germaine . . . * he
began, CI will ask a favour. It is something which I
beg that you will not tell Marie. It concerns Mir£io
whom I beat that night ... I do not want Marie
to know what I did — she is still in a state when it
might upset her/
Madame Roustan bridled: 'Must you then spare
the bitch but allow your own sister to be torn to
pieces?'
'No, no,' he said hastily, *not that, of course. But
. . . well, I do beg that you will say nothing. I am
far from a violent man as a rule, and although Marie
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