Rosemilly;" and her eye again anxiously turned to the mantel-shelf.
Pierre understood, or thought he understood, her fears and misery.
A woman's eye is keen, a woman's wit is nimble, and her instincts suspicious.

When this woman who was coming in should see the miniature of a man she did not know, she might perhaps at the first glance discover the likeness between this face and Jean.

Then she would know and understand everything.
He was seized with dread, a sudden and horrible dread of this shame being unveiled, and, turning about just as the door opened, he took the little painting and slipped it under the clock without being seen by his father and brother.
When he met his mother's eyes again they seemed to him altered, dim, and haggard.
"Good evening," said Mme.Rosemilly.

"I have come to ask you for a cup of tea." But while they were bustling about her and asking after her health, Pierre made off, the door having been left open.
When his absence was perceived they were all surprised.

Jean, annoyed for the young widow, who, he thought, would be hurt, muttered: "What a bear!" Mme.