Fran?oise could not help taking a surreptitious glance at Xavi?re: she gave a start of amazement. Xavi?re was no longer watching, her head was lowered. Fran?oise barely suppressed a scream. The girl was pressing the lighted end against her skin, a bitter smile curling her lips. It was an intimate, solitary smile, like that of a half-wit; the voluptuous, tortured smile of a woman possessed of some secret pleasure.