Instinctively she approached him, and for the first and last time he touched lightly with his cold lips the forehead of her he loved so well.

They mounted the steps, she leaning on his arm, and entered the rose-coloured boudoir where the marchioness was seated, impatiently shuffling the cards, while awaiting her victim.
"Now, then, incorruptible magistrate," cried she.
But M.Daburon felt sick at heart.

He could not have held the cards.

He stammered some absurd excuses, spoke of pressing affairs, of duties to be attended to, of feeling suddenly unwell, and went out, clinging to the walls.
His departure made the old card-player highly indignant.

She turned to her grand-daughter, who had gone to hide her confusion away from the candles of the card table, and asked, "What is the matter with Daburon this evening ?" "I do not know, madame," stammered Claire.
"It appears to me," continued the marchioness, "that the little magistrate permits himself to take singular liberties.