She dared not complain; she was
not sure that any one would help her. When she returned to the
dining-room she was white as a sheet, and, saying she was not well, she
started to go to bed, dragging herself up step by step by the baluster
and thinking that she was going to die. "Poor Brigaut!" she thought.
"The girl is ill," said Rogron.
"She ill! That's only _shamming_," replied Sylvie, in a loud voice
that Pierrette might hear. "She was well enough this morning, I can
tell you."
This last blow struck Pierrette to the earth; she went to bed weeping
and praying to God to take her out of this world.
VII
DOMESTIC TYRANNY
For a month past Rogron had ceased to carry the "Constitutionnel" to
Gouraud; the colonel came obsequiously to fetch his paper, gossip a
little, and take Rogron off to walk if the weather was fine. Sure of
seeing the colonel and being able to question him, Sylvie dressed
herself as coquettishly as she knew how. The old maid thought she was
attractive in a green gown, a yellow shawl with a red border, and a
white bonnet with straggling gray feathers. About the hour when the
colonel usually came Sylvie stationed herself in the salon with her
brother, whom she had compelled to stay in the house in his
dressing-gown and slippers.
"It is a fine day, colonel," said Rogron, when Gouraud with his heavy
step entered the room.
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