"Frighten you, child! Are you not yet accustomed to my exercises, little sister?"
Caillette colored, and half turned away.
"Why do you call me little sister?" she said.
Fanfar dropped her hands, which he had taken from his neck. A cloud passed swiftly over his brow.
"Because we have been brought up together," he answered, slowly. "You were not more than six years old when your father took me into his service. But does it vex you for me to call you sister?"
"No, it does not vex me, but I would rather you did not."
Fanfar understood her, and was disturbed. He had long since seen in the girl a growing passion for himself. Her innocence and purity were exquisite, but at the same time she loved Fanfar. He did not love her. He would have given his life for her, but he did not wish to spend it with her, and at the thought of Caillette as his wife he drew back. He now disengaged himself gently from her clinging arms.
"To work!" he said, "it is growing late."
Caillette took up her needle, as the door opened to admit Gudel. He was not alone, two ladies of aristocratic bearing were with him.