"After all, perhaps it is through jealousy," she thought. "The dolt!"
Guy did not cease to look at her through his glass.
"Does that displease you?" Jouvenet asked.
"Not at all. What is that to me?"
"This Lissac was much in love with you!"
"Ah! Monsieur le Préfet!" Marianne observed sharply. "I know that your office inclines you to be somewhat inquisitive, but it would be polite of you to allow my past to sleep in your dockets. They are famous shrouds!"
Jouvenet bit his lips and in turn brought his glass to bear on Lissac.
"See," he said, "he makes a great deal of the cross of the Christ of Portugal! It is in very bad taste! I thought he was a shrewder man!"
"The order of Christ is then in bad odor?"
"On the contrary; but as it is like the Legion of Honor in color, he is prohibited from wearing it in his buttonhole without displaying the small gold cross—And I see only the red there—"