Village books

CHAPTER V
THE PROBLEM STILL UNSOLVED
An hour went by in solemn stillness broken only by the cabalistic
phrases of the whist-players: "Spades!" "Trumped!" "Cut!" "How are
honors?" "Two to four." "Whose deal?"--phrases which represent in
these days the higher emotions of the European aristocracy. Modeste
continued to work, without seeming to be surprised at her mother's
silence. Madame Mignon's handkerchief slipped from her lap to the
floor; Butscha precipitated himself upon it, picked it up, and as he
returned it whispered in Modeste's ear, "Take care!" Modeste raised a
pair of wondering eyes, whose puzzled glance filled the poor cripple
with joy unspeakable. "She is not in love!" he whispered to himself,
rubbing his hands till the skin was nearly peeled off. At this moment
Exupere tore through the garden and the house, plunged into the salon
like an avalanche, and said to Dumay in an audible whisper, "The young
man is here!" Dumay sprang for his pistols and rushed out.
"Good God! suppose he kills him!" cried Madame Dumay, bursting into
tears.


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