contained the portrait of some Italian beauty; but the evident trouble of Max and the general colour of the miniature—that was all that she had been able to see of it—had presently aroused in her breast another suspicion. She had once given her portrait to Madame Aubrée; and she imagined that Max, in his quality of direct heir, had believed that he had the right to appropriate it. That appeared to her an enormous impropriety. However, she said nothing about it immediately; but when M. de Salligny was about to leave:
"By the way," she said to him, "your aunt had a portrait of me which I would like very much to see."
"I don't know—what portrait? What was it like?" demanded Max in an irresolute voice. This time Madame de Piennes was determined not to notice that he was trying to deceive her.
"Look for it," she said in the most natural tone possible. "You will give me great pleasure."
Aside from the incident of the portrait she was well enough pleased with the docility of Max, and promised herself again to save a lost sheep.
The next day, Max had recovered the por-
