"To-day," smiled Groener, "I enjoy myself. This afternoon I escort my pretty cousin to hear some music. Did you know that, Alice?" He turned gayly to the girl.
Since the meal began Alice had scarcely spoken, but had sat looking down at her plate save at certain moments when she would lift her eyes suddenly and fix them on Groener with a strange, half-frightened expression.
"You are very kind, Cousin Adolf," she answered timidly, "but—I'm not feeling well to-day."
"Why, what's the matter?" he asked in a tone of concern that had just a touch of hardness in it.
The girl hesitated, and Mother Bonneton put in harshly: "I'll tell you, she's fretting about that American who was sent to prison—a good riddance it was."
"You have no right to say that," flashed Alice.
"I have a right to tell your cousin about this foolishness. I've tried my best to look after you and be a mother to you, but when a girl won't listen to reason, when she goes to a prison to see a worthless lover——"
"Stop!" cried Alice, her beautiful eyes filling with tears.
"No, no, I'll tell it all. When a girl slips away from her work at the church and goes to see a man like Paul Coquenil——"
"Paul Coquenil?" repeated the wood carver blankly.