"Your turn, Fanny," now called Grosbois.
When Fanny had got her hand to the bottom, she did not hurry. She fumbled about, stirred the papers round, and seemed to weigh them one after the other.
"Picking and choosing's not allowed," said Buteau, savagely. He was suffocating with passion, and had turned pale on ascertaining the number drawn by his brother.
"Eh? Why not?" replied Fanny. "I'm not looking; surely I may feel."
"Get on," murmured the father; "there's nothing to choose between 'em; one's as heavy as the other."
At last she made up her mind, and ran to the window.
"One!"
"Well, then, Buteau has number three," resumed Fouan. "Draw it, my boy."
In the growing darkness they had not seen how the face of the young man changed. He burst out in wrath:
"Never, never!"