"Really!" said Mila, snatching the trinket from her brother's hand, for he made little resistance, but watched her closely; "this is not mine? Do you think I can be mistaken?"
"In that case you have the other, Mila."
"What other? Have you one also? I don't know anything about that; but this is mine. Here is the princess's crest. It is my property; it is my souvenir. Take back your hair. If we are at odds, I am willing you should; but this locket shall never leave me again."
And she replaced it in her bosom, by no means resolved to take out the hair, for which she cared more than she chose to admit in her childish wrath.
Michel returned to his room. The other locket must be there. There was so much candor and confidence in Mila's expression and her words! But he found nothing, and so he determined to search his sister's room as soon as she had gone out. Meanwhile, he tried to make peace with her. He coaxed and cajoled her, and, vowing that all that had happened was only a jest on his part, reproached her with being proud and sensitive.
Mila consented to make peace and to kiss her brother; but she continued to be somewhat downcast, and her lovely cheeks were tinged with a less delicate flush than usual.
"You chose a bad time to tease me," she said. "There are days when one does not feel in the mood to endure raillery, and I thought that you were teasing me on purpose to make sport of my disappointment."
"Your disappointment, Mila!" cried Michel, pressing her to his heart with a smile. "Have you been disappointed? Because you didn't see the ball last night, I suppose? Oh! you are a very unfortunate little girl, and no mistake!"
"In the first place, Michel, I am not a little girl. I shall soon be fifteen, and I am old enough to have disappointments. As for the ball, I cared very little about it; and now that it's over, I don't think about it at all."
"What is this great sorrow, then? Do you want a new dress?"