"But—suppose I did not do it on purpose?"
"You didn't do it on purpose?"
Julie felt that she was blushing, for Antoine scrutinized her closely, and there was a half bitter, half tender irony in his little black eyes.
"Really," she replied, trying to save herself by a Jesuitical expedient, "the accident happened against my desire."
"Good," rejoined Antoine, still staring at her, "put it that way, I like that better."
"You like that better—than what?"
"Mordié! yes, I like it better. Come, abandon the worthless cause you are trying to plead; condemn Master Julien's madness and disloyalty without reserve; let me punish him as I think best."
"But what makes you think that Master Julien——"
"Oh! don't try to lie any more," cried Monsieur Antoine, springing to his feet as if impelled by the quivering of his whole irritable and passionate little being; "it isn't becoming in you to lie, you know! And then it's no use, for I tell you I heard everything, and as I'm no fool I concluded—Julien has taken a fancy to you, and the rascal would tell you so if he dared!"
"What do you say, Monsieur Thierry?"