"You must know, my dear Bertrade, that I have seen for some time past that Paul was gone on Bijou, just as all the others are—for there is no mistake about it, they all are; and the last few days I have noticed that your abbé even has begun to lose his indifference; don't you think so?"
"It is very possible!"
"Yes, and I am sure that he isn't going along quite so peacefully in his worship of God as formerly?"
"And that does not displease you either, grandmamma, does it? Come, now, own it!"
"Oh, well; as long as it is just a little beneficial upset for him, I don't mind; but I should not like it to develop into anything serious—you understand where I draw the line?"
"No, because I always pity all those who are suffering from such little upsets—as you call them—even when they are mild, I think they are calculated to make people suffer greatly."
"You always see a darker side of things than I do; at all events, I think that the idea of carrying Paul off is a very excessive and unwise kind of remedy. He keeps a strict guard over himself, and no one suspects the true state of things except you—"
"And all the others!"
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it."