The Desprez' meanwhile had taken up their abode at Tentaillon's.

Madame spent her time in the kitchen, concocting little delicacies, with the admiring aid of Madame Tentaillon, or sitting by the fire in thoughtful abstraction.
The fall of the house affected her wonderfully little; that blow had been parried by another; and in her mind she was continually fighting over again the battle of the trousers.

Had she done right?
Had she done wrong?
And now she would applaud her determination; and anon, with a horrid flush of unavailing penitence, she would regret the trousers.

No juncture in her life had so much exercised her judgment.

In the meantime the Doctor had become vastly pleased with his situation.