She watched him, and suddenly a suspicion darted through her mind--a suspicion that he suspected them.
Dieu! What a man was this! He took no chances.

Madame reflected that this augured ill for the success of the last resource upon which, should all else fail, she was counting to keep mademoiselle at Condillac.

It seemed incredible that one so wary and watchful should have committed the rashness of venturing alone into Condillac without taking his precautions to ensure his ability to retreat.
In her heart she felt daunted by him.

But in the matter of that wine--the faintest of smiles hovered on her lips, her eyebrows went up a shade.

Then she took up the cup that had been poured for the Parisian, and bore it to her son.
"Marius, you are not drinking," said she.