She was stupefied and remained gazing at the fragments as she cried: "Oh, it's smashed!" Then she burst out laughing.

The fragments lying on the floor tickled her fancy.

Her merriment was of the nervous kind, the stupid, spiteful laughter of a child who delights in destruction.

Philippe had a little fit of disgust, for the wretched girl did not know what anguish this curio had cost him.

Seeing him thoroughly upset, she tried to contain herself.
"Gracious me, it isn't my fault! It was cracked; those old things barely hold together.